


the tenderness of summer nights

by JourEtNuit



Category: RWBY
Genre: Adam Taurus Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/F, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Summer Rose (RWBY) Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourEtNuit/pseuds/JourEtNuit
Summary: “Are you sure you’re happy to stay with us for the whole summer? I know it was your idea, but… Patch isn’t as big of an island as Menagerie. There isn’t much to do, ya know, aside from the beaches and like, the oldest movie theater in the world.” Yang rubs the back of her neck, hot and sweaty under the weight of her hair. “I don’t want you to get bored.”Blake shrugs. “Honestly, after the freshman year we’ve had, I wouldn’t mind two months of pure boredom.”—(In which Blake and Yang spend the summer together in Patch after their first year of college, Yang is on a mission to find someone, Blake has a secret that could put her life at risk, and both of them struggle with unexpected feelings.)





	1. Chapter 1

”You’re sure your parents won’t mind?”

Blake sounds detached, as she often does, but after a year of sharing a dorm room, Yang knows her too well to miss the hint of nervousness in her voice. She turns around, and finds Blake sitting on the bus stop’s metal bench, seemingly absorbed in her phone. The picture of nonchalance, except Yang isn’t fooled. She takes in the rigidity of Blake’s spine, the thin line of her lips, the way she’s carefully avoiding Yang’s eyes.

Yang props her hip against the glass wall of the bus stop, and waits until Blake looks up at her.

“Blake, you gotta relax, we’ve been over this. They’re totally chill! The only thing that mattered to them was checking in with your parents, which they did - _a month ago_. I told you, they’re super excited to meet you!”

Blake nods, but keeps fidgeting with the handle of her suitcase. The two of them are waiting outside of Beacon University for Tai to pick them up and drive them over to Patch. It’s early in the afternoon, the last day of June, and the sun is blazing hot, so they’ve taken refuge under the partial shade of the nearest bus stop. Around them, the city of Vale is drowsy, most people staying inside to avoid the heat. Even the cars look ready to melt.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house,” Yang tells Blake, trying to cheer her up. “And the backyard! You know, Dad grows his own tomatoes, and they’re like, the _best_. And the cherry tree is super pretty and awesome for climbing. Did I ever tell you how I fell from that tree and broke my arm when I was ten? I didn’t even cry, I was mostly in shock, but Ruby was sobbing so hard Dad thought _she_ had hurt herself. Oh, and we have a hammock! Summer built it for Ruby a couple years ago. It’s perfect for reading, you’ll like it.”

Blake smiles, softly. “That sounds lovely.”

There’s a silence, and it’s Yang’s turn to grow nervous, suddenly. “Are _you_ sure you’re happy to stay with us for the whole summer? I know it was your idea, but… Patch isn’t as big of an island as Menagerie. There isn’t much to do, ya know, aside from the beaches and like, the oldest movie theater in the world.” She rubs the back of her neck, hot and sweaty under the weight of her hair. “I don’t want you to get bored.”

Blake shrugs. “Honestly, after the freshman year we’ve had, I wouldn’t mind two months of pure boredom. I’m still trying to recover from the finals.”

“That’s because _someone_ refused to sleep for the past three weeks,” Yang mutters, playfully scolding. “Instead of listening to the very sound advice of the best roommate anyone could ever have, aka yours truly.”

Blake rolls her eyes. “Well, don’t worry, I’m going to honor the long lasting Belladonna tradition of sleeping in every morning while on vacation.”

“Not on my watch,” Yang counters lightly. “We have too many things to do! I’m not letting you stay in bed half the day, Belladonna tradition or not.” She pauses, suddenly hesitant. “I'm sorry, I'm sure you miss them a lot. Your parents, and your friends from Menagerie. You haven’t seen them in a while.” 

There’s a glint of something in Blake’s eyes - something Yang can’t identify, but it leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and her chest tightens - and then it’s gone, and Blake is smiling at her. “I’ll be fine. I can talk to them on the phone or on Skype. And my parents promised they’d come visit for the winter holidays next year, so it won't be too long before I see them.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Yang can’t imagine being far away from her family for more than a couple of months, let alone a year and a half, but she doesn’t say anything. Since she met her, Blake’s always been a bit reticent to talk about her people back in Menagerie, and Yang can tell she hasn’t gotten the whole story yet. She isn’t one to pry, though. Blake will open up when she wants to.

She’s about to change the subject and complain about her dad being late, as usual, when she recognizes the dented blue car coming their way. “Finally!” she grumbles, waving her arm in greeting.

Tai pulls over in front of them, smiling wide as he gets out of the car, and Yang can’t help rolling her eyes at his outfit. He’s wearing baggy shorts and a hideous floral shirt, sunglasses perched on his head and a red bandana tied around his left arm. 

“Oh my God, Dad, you look like an old surfer dude who still thinks he’s cool. This is atrocious.”

He laughs and pulls her into a tight hug, dropping a kiss on top of her hair. “Hello to you too! Is that the thanks I get for driving all day to come and get you?”

Yang hides her smile against his shoulder, hugging him back. He smells like fresh roses and wet dirt, he must have worked in the garden early this morning, and she’s missed him dearly.

Tai ruffles her hair, before letting her go, and turning to Blake. “Hey, Blake, nice to finally meet you in person!”

“Hi, Mr Xiao Long. It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Blake says, extending a hand. Tai chuckles and claps her on the shoulder instead, and Yang snorts as Blake’s eyes widen a little. 

“Please, call me Tai. Now come on, girls, let’s get on the road. Summer and Ruby are waiting for us at home, and I have it from an anonymous source that they’re making something special to celebrate your arrival.”

Yang grins as she loads her bags in the trunk. “Is it Summer’s famous cherry pie?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, I’m afraid,” Tai replies. Blake slides in next to Yang on the back seat, and he starts the car. 

“I’ll just ask your _anonymous source_ ,” Yang says, sending a quick text to Ruby. She gets a reply just as they exit Vale, following the highway that leads towards the coast, north of the city. “Yep, called it! You like cherry pie, Blake?”

“Who doesn’t?” Blake answers, matter-of-factly.

Tai smiles at her through the rear-view mirror. “I like you already!”

 

The trip from Beacon University to the bridge that connects the small island of Patch and the mainland takes almost three hours, and then it’s another thirty or so minutes on a single lane road to the Xiao Long-Rose residence - which means they make it just in time for dinner. The house hasn’t changed, hidden from the main road by a row of tall, bulky oak trees, with bushes of red roses lining the windows. The gravel squeaks under the wheels as Tai parks the car in the driveway, and the familiar noise makes Yang unexpectedly emotional. This is what coming home sounds like.

“Yang! You’re here!”

Ruby is running towards them, their dog Zwei in tow, and Yang barely has time to get out of the car before she jumps into her arms. “Hey, sis,” she says, twirling Ruby in the air like she used to do when they were kids. Ruby is definitely too big for this now, at sixteen years old, but Yang couldn’t care less. “You’re very excited for someone who saw me barely a week ago!” 

Ruby goes to Signal High, a boarding school in Vale, so Yang is able to see her fairly regularly since she started at Beacon. Ruby's summer break started earlier than Yang though, and she's missed having her sister around.

“Well, you’re not the one who’s been stuck with Mom and Dad alone for a week!” Ruby whines. 

Zwei barks, as if indignantly reminding them that he’s here too. Ruby laughs and crouches to scratch his ears just as Summer steps out of the doorway, wearing a flour-covered apron, her short auburn hair tied in a messy ponytail.

“Oh, I see,” she tells Ruby, hands on her hips. “So the dog gets some appreciation, but not your own mother?”

Ruby sticks her tongue out, and Yang rushes over to give Summer a long hug. “Hello, love, it’s good to see you,” Summer whispers in her ear, before pulling away and cupping Yang’s face in her hands, gently. 

“You look tired. Have you been pushing yourself too hard?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just some residual stress from the exams. You should have seen Blake during finals week, she was basically the walking dead.”

She turns around, in time to catch Blake trying not to grimace as Zwei enthusiastically licks her hand. “Hey, Blake! Leave that poor dog alone, and come say hi to Summer!”

Blake walks up to them, and gives Summer a shy little smile. “Hi Mrs Rose, I’m Blake, it’s nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

Summer laughs and kisses her on both cheeks. “Thanks, honey. It’s nice to meet you too, Yang’s told us so much about you! Are you hungry?”

 

Dinner is everything Yang was hoping for - delicious and noisy and completely chaotic. It’s the first family meal they’ve had since Yang visited for spring break, so there’s a lot of talking over each other and laughing at terrible puns and fighting over who gets the last piece of cornbread.

And of course, everyone is very eager to talk to Blake. Yang’s been gushing about her new friend since the beginning of the school year, so obviously they’re all curious about her. Yang is worried, at first, that it’s going to be too much for Blake, who’s never cared much for attention. But to her surprise, Blake is all smiles and poise, answering questions from Tai and Summer, chuckling at Ruby’s jokes, complimenting the food. It stirs up a weird mix of emotions inside Yang’s chest, relief and joy and pride, all entangled with a vague sense of yearning. 

“So how come you decided not to go back to your folks in Menagerie for the break?” Tai asks, as Summer serves everyone a slice of cherry pie.

“Oh, it was just easier. You know, we don’t have an airport in Menagerie, which means the only way to travel to and from the island is by boat, and that takes a long time. Since we only have two months of vacation, I figured I might as well save myself the trouble, and just stay close to Vale.” Blake’s tone is casual, carefree. It’s the same explanation she gave to Yang a couple months ago, when she first asked about it, and Yang has no reason to doubt her. But there’s something about Blake’s words, something that strikes her as - not quite false, because everything she's saying is true. Rehearsed, maybe. Or incomplete.

“Makes sense,” Tai says, before bringing a huge spoonful of pie to his mouth. “Well, welcome to Patch! Make yourself at home, alright?”

“Thank you,” Blake says, softly. “I really appreciate it.”

“This seems like a good time to talk about some house rules,” Summer declares, and Yang groans, hiding her head in her hands.

“Oh my God, is that really necessary? You know we’re both eighteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Summer retorts, clearly unmoved by Yang’s embarrassment. “Blake’s under our care for the summer, so I want to make sure we’re all on the same page. And you two,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at Ruby and Yang, “could definitely use a refresher course.”

Ruby gives her mom an angelic smile, and Yang just rolls her eyes. She risks a glance at Blake, who doesn’t look traumatized by the unexpected parental shenanigans, thankfully. 

“We all want to have a good summer,” Tai says, pushing his empty plate away. “Summer and I are on vacation too, you know. So we’ll happily stay out of your way, as long as you agree to a few things. First, your presence at dinner is non negotiable. Secondly, we all help with the chores. Dishes, cooking, laundry, the usual.”

Tai waits for them to agree, before he goes on. “Yang, you know the drill. Helmet is mandatory if you or anyone else is using your bike.”

“Well, yeah,” Yang says. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Could have fooled me,” Tai mutters. “And last but not least, if you’re planning on leaving Patch, to spend the day in Vale or wherever, you need to let us know.”

“And by letting us know, we mean asking permission beforehand, not when you’re already halfway there,” Summer clarifies, with a raised eyebrow. “Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Yang and Ruby answer together. 

“Of course,” Blake says.

“Alright then,” Summer concludes, with a smile. “Thanks for listening. Now, who’s up for a vicious game of poker before we call it a night?”

“Oh, I’m going to destroy you!” Ruby boasts, pointing a dramatic finger at her mom.

“Bring it on,” Summer says with a grin. 

As they all start clearing out the table, Yang leans towards Blake, bumping her shoulder.

“Hey, you okay? Was that too much for you?”

Blake shakes her head. “No, not at all. Your parents are great. Believe me, if it had been you staying at my house, my dad would have given us a two-hours lecture.This is _nothing_.”

Yang huffs, still a little disgruntled. “Come on, let’s go play poker. You have to witness Summer at her most evil. Plus, I have a feeling you might give her a run for her money. No pun intended.”

“The pun is always intended with you.” Blake gives her a long-suffering look. 

“You love me,” Yang replies, with a wink.

Tai is the first one to lose, followed almost immediately by Yang. Ruby manages to win a few rounds, but she eventually has to admit defeat, leaving Blake and Summer locked into a fairly well-matched battle. 

Ruby’s cheering too loudly, and Tai is shaking his head at her, but Yang is not paying attention to either of them. She’s staring at Blake, fascinated by the way she holds her cards like weapons, by the quiet confidence in her eyes, by the way she smirks when she wins a round. Something twinges in Yang’s chest, something sharp and startling and _new_ , but not quite unpleasant.

In the end, Blake loses. “Great game!” Summer congratulates her. “I haven’t had a worthy opponent in a while.”

“Hey!” Tai protests. “I’m right here!”

“Rude,” Yang grumbles.

“But accurate,” Ruby snipes, like the traitor she is, and Blake lets out a small laugh as Yang’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Laughing as well, Summer gives Tai a quick peck on the lips, before patting Yang’s cheek. 

“My poor grumpy blondes,” she teases. 

“Okay, okay.” Yang mumbles. “Blake, I think that’s our cue to leave.”

“Go, save your dignity,” Tai jokes. “I’ve put the extra bed for Blake in your bedroom, so you two should be all set up.”

Yang presses a kiss to his cheek as a thank you, and leads Blake upstairs. “It’s gonna be cramped, sorry,” she warns as she opens the door. And it is, a little. Her bedroom is not small by any standard, but with the camp bed for Blake nestled between the desk and the chest of drawers, it does look a bit crowded.

“It’s perfect,” Blake says, sitting on her bed, looking around with curious eyes. “I like the flowers.” She points towards the blue porcelain vase filled with bright sunflowers. 

Yang sits at the foot of her own bed, facing Blake. They’re close enough that she could touch her if she stretched. “They’re from Dad. When I was a kid, he told me that if you put flowers near your bed they’ll eat your nightmares. I totally bought it, and now I guess it’s tradition.”

Blake smiles. “My mom used to say the same thing about wood chimes. She’d hang one above my bed every night. I never really believed her, but I liked the sound it made when my window was open and the wind came through.”

Blake looks wistful as she recounts the story, and not for the first time that evening, Yang wonders if being around her family is hard for Blake, if it makes her regret her decision not to go home. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet,” Blake says, interrupting Yang’s musings.

She frowns. “For what?”

“Letting me stay with you, this summer. You didn’t have to.”

Yang shrugs, and nudges Blake’s knee with her foot. “What are friends for?”

 

 

Yang wakes up as the first rays of sun bathe the room in soft, pale light. She’s always been an early riser, especially in the summer, when mornings are warm and bright and full of possibility. 

She checks her phone first, like she’s done every single day for the past month. There’s only a text from Weiss complaining about her father. 

Fighting the disappointment rising in her throat, she sits up and stretches - and freezes. Blake is still asleep on the other bed. Yang should be used to it ; they’ve shared a dorm for the past nine months after all. There’s just something very different, very _real_ , about Blake sleeping in her bedroom. It feels more intimate somehow. It feels precious.

Blake looks peaceful, all curled up on her side, hugging her pillow, dark hair hiding half her face. She’s drooling a little, and it’s kind of adorable. She must have pushed off the sheets during the night, because they lie all crumpled at the foot of the bed, leaving her in her short purple night dress. Her legs are exposed up to mid-thigh, and Yang’s eyes are drawn to them, like a hummingbird to the sweet nectar of a flower, until they find the scar. 

It’s right there above Bake’s left knee, a thick, jagged line that cuts across her leg like someone tried to slice it off - it looks painful, and Yang shudders involuntarily, as she does every time she sees it. She wonders if Blake will ever tell her how she got that scar. Then she realizes staring at her sleeping friend is maybe a little weird, and shakes herself out of it. 

She gets out of bed and opens the window, letting the morning breeze in. It smells of roses and brine, of the ocean and the flowers of Tai’s garden - it smells like home. She takes a deep breath, smiling as she makes her way barefoot to Blake, and taps her lightly on the shoulder. No reaction. She taps again, a little harder, and Blake makes a scrunchy face in her sleep, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “Fuck off.”

Yang grins.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” she yells, and bursts out laughing when Blake sits up abruptly, eyes unfocused, hair wild. “Oh my God, the look on your face. Priceless.”

“Ugh,” Blake groans, glaring, rubbing her temples. “You’re the worst.”

“Nah, I’m the best. Come on, let’s get some breakfast and go to the beach! This is the first day of our summer vacation, and it’s gonna be epic!”

Blake is still glaring at her, but there’s no actual anger in her eyes - Yang can even see the shadow of a smile on Blake’s lips. “Fine. But you better make me some tea.”

“You got it,” Yang says, still laughing.

An hour later, and everyone is in the car, on the way to the beach. Tai fiddles with the radio while Summer drives ; the girls are sharing the backseat, Zwei curled up on Ruby’s lap. Yang opens the window and closes her eyes, letting the wind toy with her hair as an old song from the 50’s comes up on the radio. Tai turns up the volume, throwing an arm around Summer’s shoulders. Ruby sings, Zwei barks. Blake’s bare thigh is pressed against Yang’s, and she smells like sunscreen and jasmine tea. Yang’s heart feels too big for her chest.

The beach is empty when they arrive. It’s not the most popular beach of the island, too small and located on the far side of Patch, but it’s Yang’s favorite. There’s a big rock formation overlooking the waves, perfect for jumping in the water, and sea shells littering the sand. 

She takes off her shorts and tank top, and grins at Ruby. “Race ya!” They both take off towards the water, Zwei running after them. Ruby has always been faster, so she makes it before Yang, splashing into the waves with a yelp. “It’s cold!” she whines, but she has a big smile on her face when Yang joins her. 

A _very_ big smile.

“Don’t,” Yang warns, pointing her finger at Ruby. She’s up to her knees, and the ocean is chilly in the morning - the sun hasn’t had time to warm the water yet.

Ruby kicks her leg in Yang’s direction, splattering her, and laughs when she shrieks. “Oh, you’re in trouble,” Yang yells, rushing towards her. In the end, they both end up soaked and giggling, floating on their backs under the sun. A lone seagull glides above them, unperturbed by their antics.

“Have you heard from Weiss?” Yang asks after a minute of silence.

“A few texts, here and there. She said she’d try to call us soon, but her summer internship is keeping her busy.” Ruby sighs. “You?”

“Same. I told her she should come visit us before school starts again,” Yang says, staring at the empty blue sky. “I miss her.”

“I know,” Ruby says, sadly. “ I wish she’d gone to Beacon with you, instead of Atlas.” She pokes Yang in the shoulder. “But, hey, at least, you met Blake!”

Yang smiles. “Yeah.”

“Speaking of, is she not coming in?” Ruby asks, throwing a piece of driftwood for Zwei to catch. Yang looks back towards the beach. Tai is slathering himself with sunscreen, and Summer is busy setting up the beach umbrella. Besides them, Blake sits on her towel, in her swimming suit, wearing round sunglasses and a huge straw hat. She has a book resting on her lap, and Yang rolls her eyes. 

“Nerd,” she says, fondly. 

She swims back to the beach and runs up to Blake, crouching down in front of her. “Whatcha reading?”

Blake looks up from her book, and does that thing she does where her lips curve in a disapproving frown, but her eyes are smiling. “Yang, you’re dripping everywhere!”

“That’s what she said…” Yang says, waggling her eyebrows exaggeratedly. 

Summer sends her a stern look from where she’s still struggling with the umbrella. “Yang, not appropriate,” she scolds, but the corner of Blake’s mouth lifts up.

“Come in the water with me and Ruby! It’s a little cold at first but once you get used to it, it’s great!”

“Sure, why not.” Blake removes her glasses and hat, and places them neatly next to her book on the towel, before she holds her hand out. Yang stands up and pulls her to her feet. She keeps their fingers linked together as she leads Blake to the ocean, and neither of them mention it.

It turns out Blake is a great swimmer. They race to the shore a few times, and she is much faster than Yang and Ruby.

“I grew up on an island too!” Blake explains, a little smug, when she wins for the third time in a row. It would be frustrating, if it weren't such a beautiful sight, the way she moves effortlessly in the water, long limbs gracefully following the ebb and flow of the waves. So beautiful, in fact, that Yang gets a little distracted, and Ruby cunningly sneaks up to her and, catching her off guard, manages to dunk her head under the water. It’s the start of a long cycle of revenge, that only ends when Tai calls them back to the shore for lunch.

When the time comes to go home, Yang is exhausted, the kind of satisfying, bone-deep fatigue that comes from spending the day outside in the sun. She smiles contentedly, sitting in the middle of the backseat. Ruby curls up against her right side, fast asleep as soon as the car starts moving, and Blake’s head falls on Yang’s left shoulder not too long afterwards. Trapped in between the two of them, Yang can’t move an inch. She’s too hot, and everything is sticky with sand and salt, and Blake’s hair keeps tickling her neck, and she wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

 

 

Time passes, and Yang settles into the routine of summer. They go to the beach every other day, and laze around in the backyard. She still checks her phone every morning, to no avail. Sometimes she goes out on a run with Ruby, or works in the garden with Tai while Blake reads in the hammock. It’s peaceful, and familiar, and even though they’re not used to having Blake around, she fits in surprisingly well, cooking with Tai and discussing the merits of tea with Summer and beating Ruby at every card game they play. In the evening, Yang and Blake lie on different beds, and talk, just like they used to in their dorm room, about everything and nothing, until they fall asleep.

And then, one night, Yang wakes up with a full bladder and finds Blake’s bed empty. She sleepily pads out of the room, on her way to the bathroom, and there Blake is, sitting on the stairs, under the dim light of the moon coming through the window, whispering in her phone. She’s speaking too low for Yang to catch any word, but she sounds upset. When she sees Yang, she hangs up, hurriedly.

“Everything okay?” Yang asks, sleepily. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just talking with Sun, you know how he gets.”

Yang cocks her head, keeping her eyes on Blake. She’s never seen Blake acting so agitated around anyone, let alone her friend Sun. Annoyed, sure, but the kind of annoyed Yang gets when Weiss is being ridiculous. Right now, Blake doesn’t look annoyed, she looks _on edge_ , hand gripping the staircase railing so hard her knuckles have turned white. 

Yang bites her lip, hesitant. Part of her wants to call Blake out, ask her what’s really going on, but she’s aware that it wouldn’t be fair. After all, she’s not the only one keeping secrets.

Blake doesn’t move, and for a full, tense minute, they stay still, facing each other in the silent hallway, until Yang shrugs and walks the rest of the way to the bathroom. It’s the middle of the night, she’s not in the mood for a confrontation.

They don’t talk about it the next day, and if Blake is acting a little distant, a little aloof, Yang doesn’t notice, because that morning, when she checks her phone, there’s a text.

It just reads: _“She’s here. Now you owe me a drink, Blondie._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Blake closes her laptop and leans back against the desk chair, looking through the window of Yang’s bedroom. The sun is setting outside, and its dying light is painting the horizon in shades of fiery red and orange. Birds are chirping from the tree line, insects buzzing around the flowers on the windowsill.

It’s a nice, peaceful evening, and Blake’s eyes shouldn’t fill with tears, but she can’t fight the sadness creeping up her throat like the slow, inexorable rise of the tide. She just finished skyping with her parents, which always leaves her drowning in conflicted feelings, happiness and shame and heartache mixing in her stomach like a dangerous cocktail. She blinks furiously, refusing to cry. She misses them. She misses them so much, and they miss her too, and even though they’d never say anything, she knows they think she left _because_ of them. But the truth is…

No. Blake places her hands flat on the desk, and inhales, steadily. That’s enough self-pitying. Whatever happened, happened.

There’s a light knock on the door, and Yang pops her head in. “Hey,” she says. “Dinner is ready. You done skyping?”

Blake nods and gets up, but her expression must betray her, because Yang cocks her head, looking at her with concern. “Everything alright with your parents?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

Yang is still looking at her, in that very particular way Yang often looks at her - like she knows something’s wrong, but she won’t push. Every time it happens, Blake’s torn between her impulse to hide, and the growing urge to explain everything. She clenches her jaw, and the urge passes.

“It’s… hard, sometimes, talking to them. I can tell they wish I were home.”

“What about you? Do _you_ wish you were home?”

Blake shrugs. “I feel pretty at home here.” And it’s not a lie, staying in Patch with Yang’s family has been surprisingly pleasant. But it’s not quite an answer either.

Blake can’t feel bad about it, though, because the way Yang smiles at her in response, bright and unabashedly happy, tugs at her heart almost painfully.

 

It’s Yang’s turn to do the dishes, so Blake grabs a kitchen towel to help her out. They work in companionable silence, and Blake finally feels the last of her anxiety from the Skype call disappear, scrubbed clean just like the dirty dishes under Yang’s energetic hand.

When they’re done, she hangs the wet towel and touches Yang’s shoulder, lightly. “Hey, you wanna take a walk?”

“Sure,” Yang agrees, easily. She turns towards the living room. “Dad, Blake and I are going out for a little bit!”

“Don’t stay out too late!” Tai replies, without even looking up from his book.

Blake follows Yang out of the door, to the dirt path that leads back to the main road. Patch is nothing like Menagerie - here, the houses are completely isolated, so far away from each other that most of the island turns pitch dark at night. On Menagerie, everything is cramped, houses and cabins built almost on top of each other, cafes and restaurants lining up the streets, crowded till the early morning. Menagerie never sleeps.

And Patch is so quiet, too. Where she’s from, there’s always a radio playing in the background, a baby crying, old men arguing over their game of dice. But as the two of them walk on the narrow road, alone, the only thing Blake hears is the sound of their footsteps on the soft ground, and the thumping of her heart when her bare arm brushes against Yang’s.

Once they’ve put some distance between them and the house, Blake pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and a lighter. “Want one?” she asks, and Yang hesitates, at first, before nodding. Blake puts two cigarettes between her lips, lights them up, and offers one to Yang.

They find a small grassy patch on the side of the road, and sit down on the ground. The air is thick with the sweet smell of flowers, lilac and honeysuckle and pink wisteria. In the darkness, the burning tips of the cigarettes glow bright orange.

“This is nice,” Yang whispers, blowing out smoke as she speaks.

“Yeah,” Blake says, distractedly. She can’t take her eyes off Yang’s lips, how soft they look when they close around the cigarette.

“Hey, you ever think about the first time we met?”

Blake raises an eyebrow, and taps the tip of her cigarette with one finger, watching the ash fall down. “You mean when you jumped out of our closet, surprised the shit out of me, and made me drop an entire case of books on the ground?”

Yang snorts. “Scaredy cat.”

“I didn’t know you were already in the room! They told me my roommate would arrive later in the day!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Still funny. Why were you so nervous, anyway? Was it moving to Vale? Were you a little intimidated by the big city?” Yang teases. Something cold and viscous slithers down Blake’s spine, making her shiver.

“Yeah,” she whispers, a second too late. It comes out unconvincing, even to her ears. Yang gives her a _look_ , before lying down on the grass. Blake waits a beat, and does the same.

“You know, one day you’ll have to tell me all those secrets of yours,” Yang murmurs.

Blake inhales, and keeps the smoke inside her lungs till it burns. “What secrets?”

Yang puts out her cigarette, and rolls onto her side. Blake keeps her eyes on the night sky above them, on the familiar shape of the moon, round and pale and much, much safer to look at than Yang and the unrelenting gentleness of her attention.

“We’ve been friends for a year now. You can trust me,” Yang says, earnestly. “Nothing you can say is gonna scare me off, Blake.”

“You don’t know that,” Blake lets out, before she can stop herself.

Yang reaches out, and the tip of her fingers brush Blake’s cheekbone, very lightly. Blake’s heart goes wild, like a panicked bird trapped inside her chest, throwing itself violently against her ribs.

“Of course, I do,” Yang says, softly. “I care about you, dumbass.”

The intensity of the moment crumbles abruptly, shattered by the blunt word, and a weight lifts from Blake’s chest. “Thanks, I think?” she says, like a question, but she takes Yang’s fingers in her own, and squeezes them briefly.

“Would it help if I told you I have a secret too?”

Blake can’t help an incredulous chuckle. She rolls on her side as well, facing her. “Yang, you told me your entire life story literally two days after we met,” she says, deadpan.

Yang flips her off. “Not all of us can be edgy and mysterious.”

Blake shakes her head, amused despite herself, her seriousness from earlier all but forgotten. “Alright, talk. What’s your big secret?”

Yang leans her head closer. “I’m…” She pauses dramatically, and lowers her voice. “…gay.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Blake groans, swatting at Yang’s arm.

Yang falls back on the ground, laughing hard. Blake tries her best not to, because Yang shouldn’t be encouraged, but her joy is contagious, and she ends up joining in the laughter. Once they’ve calmed down, Yang clears her throat. “For real though, there is something I kinda want to talk to you about. But you have to promise me not to tell anyone else.”

“Sure,” Blake agrees, half expecting another joke.

“I think I have an actual shot at finding Raven.”

Now, _that’s_ a surprise. Blake sits up, frowning. “What? How?”

Yang sits up as well, crosslegged on the grass. “You know when I went to meet my uncle Qrow, in April? He got really drunk, like _really_ drunk, and he let something slip. Apparently, Raven is planning on hanging out in Vale this summer.”

“Fuck,” Blake breathes out. She pulls another cigarette from her pack, and lights it.

“I know. Anyway, I have a … friend who’s been on the look out for her, and he spotted her in a club two days ago. Qrow was right, she’s in Vale. She’s in Vale _right now_.” Yang looks down, and she absently twists a blade of grass between her fingers. Blake resists the sudden, uncontrollable impulse to hug her. She knows how important finding her birth mother is to Yang, and this is the first concrete clue she’s ever had about Raven’s whereabouts. This must be so overwhelming for her.

“What about your parents?” Blake asks, gently. “Are you going to tell them?”

“No.”

Yang’s voice rings like steel against stone. She meets Blake’s eyes. “I know they don’t want me to see her, but this is my choice to make, not theirs.”

Blake looks at Yang and the fire in her eyes, the hope and fear and determination, the underlying hint of fragility hidden behind her usual confident front, and it hits her, unexpectedly. She’s the _only_ person Yang trusts with this. Her heart brims with affection and pride.

“Okay. How can I help?”

Yang smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

  
The next morning, Tai and Summer leave early with Ruby for a day of shopping in a town nearby, which means Blake and Yang are left to their own devices. “You wanna go on a bike ride?” Yang asks, eyes glinting with excitement.

Blake’s never ridden a motorcycle before, and the concept is slightly nerve-wracking, but she’s not about to admit that to Yang. She’d never live it down. “Sure,” she says, trying her best to sound relaxed. “Where to?”

“I’ll take you to the best overlook of the island. It’s not far, and it’s totally worth it.”

Twenty minutes later, Blake stands in the driveway, awkwardly holding a big purple helmet, and staring at Yang while she does a final check on the bike. Yang changed into a leather jacket with brown coat-tails, large combat boots, and aviator sunglasses, and it’s honestly a little upsetting how well the whole biker aesthetic fits her. Blake puts the weird fluttering feeling in her stomach down to jealousy.

When she’s done with her checks, Yang walks up to her with a smile. “You need help with that?” she asks, pointing to Blake’s helmet.

“Yes, please.”

Yang takes the helmet from her hands and carefully slips it down over Blake’s head until it fits snuggly. She fastens the straps with expert fingers, while Blake stands very still, letting her work, and focuses hard on ignoring how close Yang’s hands are to her throat. The strange fluttering grows stronger in her belly.

Yang pushes down the visor, and lightly raps her knuckles against the top of Blake’s helmet-covered head. “Here you go. All set.” She mounts the bike, puts on her own helmet, starts the engine - and then turns towards Blake expectantly.

Blake is frozen in place, unable to look away from her. She’s thankful that her face is hidden, because her mouth is wide open and she’s pretty sure she’s blushing. “What?” Yang asks when she doesn’t move.

“Uh, nothing… It’s just… hm…” Blake stammers. She’s just intimidated is all, she tells herself, firmly. Yang has always been pretty, but Yang all decked out in her biker gear, straddling her motorcycle, is something else entirely. She’s _stunning_.

“Are you scared?” Yang says, teasingly, obviously mistaking Blake’s behavior for nervousness.

Blake exhales, and goes along with the easiest explanation. “Yeah. A little.”

“Just hold on to me and keep your feet on the footrests. You’ll be fine.”

Yang pats the space behind her. Blake settles on the bike and wraps her arms around Yang’s waist, and suddenly they’re moving, turning from the driveway onto the main road, picking up speed. It’s a beautiful summer day, sunny and cloudless, but not too hot. Blake presses her cheek against the back of Yang’s jacket, and looks on as the trees and fields of sunflowers go by before her eyes in a blur of green and gold. Yang’s stomach is firm underneath her hands, and she smells like leather and motor oil and coffee, and if Blake’s heart is making summersaults inside her chest, she blames it on the speed.

Yang takes them all the way to the southernmost side of the island, up a rocky hill. She parks the bike on the side of the road. “You can let go now,” she says, when Blake doesn’t loosen her grip at first. Blake reluctantly takes her arms off Yang’s waist.

They both remove their helmets and climb to the very top of the hill. From up there, the view is magnificent, the ocean glimmering under the sunshine, calm until it hits the continental coastline, waves crashing against the white limestone cliffs in the distance. Blake stares, in awe. Yang points her finger to the South. “Vale is over there. You can kinda see it if you squint.”

“It’s amazing,” Blake breathes out, still taking it in.

“Told ya.”

Yang guides her to an old wooden bench, covered in moss and graffitis - it’s obviously a popular spot - and they sit and admire the scenery for a bit.

“We should talk about Raven,” Blake says eventually, breaking the silence.

Yang takes a deep breath, and nods for her to go on. She seems unusually reserved, so Blake turns halfway to get a look at her, eyebrows raised in concern. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I guess the next step is to go meet the guy who gave me the info, see what he has to say. He works in a club downtown.”

“So we need to go to Vale.” Blake states, still looking at her carefully. “Let’s ask your parents if we can spend the day in Vale tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

Yang’s voice wobbles a little. Blake squeezes her knee. “Hey,” she says. “You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, right?”

“I know. I just…” Yang pauses, and places her hand on top of Blake’s, interlacing their fingers. “I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. After all, I’m looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

Blake’s stomach constricts, tightening on itself, stretched like a rubber band about to snap. She swallows hard. “We’ll try our best,” she says, and if her voice is a little shaky, Yang doesn’t mention it.

They stay here for a while, watching the ocean together, but Blake finds herself unable to appreciate the view, Yang’s words echoing in her head. _Someone who doesn’t want to be found._

 

  
That evening, after dinner, while Yang and Ruby are playing video games in the living room, Blake sneaks outside. She lies on the hammock in the backyard, one leg dangling from the side, and calls Ilia.

“Blake?” Ilia answers sluggishly, her voice husky through the phone. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Am I waking you up?”

“Obviously. It’s the middle of the night here!”

“Sorry,” Blake says. Silence stretches awkwardly between them for a minute or so.

Ilia sighs, and Blake hears some movement, the ruffling of sheets, the creaking of wood, before she speaks again, more clearly this time. “What’s up?”

“Are there any news?”

“Of…?” Ilia asks, but the slight edge in her voice tells Blake she already knows.

“Adam.”

Ilia swallows audibly. Blake pushes her foot against the ground - the hammock starts swinging back and forth, and she lets the gentle movement soothe her trepidation. “No, nothing since I called you last week. Nobody’s seen him.”

“Fuck.” Blake stares at the dark tree branches above her. “Fuck,” she repeats, lower. She absently rubs her finger along the scar on her leg.

“Look, we don’t know what it means yet,” Ilia reasons, obviously trying to be reassuring. It doesn’t work. “Maybe he’s just laying low for a while. He _just_ got out of prison, and he may be an asshole, but he’s not stupid. I’m sure he doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention right now.”

“The only thing he wants is _me_ ,” Blake whispers, between clenched teeth.

“Just because he asked about you…”

“Ilia,” Blake interrupts, and she means to sound irritated, but it comes out desperate. “Please.”

Ilia’s breath falters. Blake waits. The foliage trembles in the evening breeze, the dark leaves shining silver under the moonlight. An owl hoots in the distance, disturbing the quiet. Blake focuses on her surroundings, on everything she sees and hears and smells, keeping herself grounded. She can’t afford to panic.

“You’re right,” Ilia says, caving in. “I’m sorry. I guess there’s no point in being in denial.”

“Adam wants me. He told me he’d get revenge for what happened, and you and I both know how obsessive he is. He’s coming for me, Ilia.”

“What are you going to do?”

Blake exhales, slow and steady. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do but wait. Very few people know I’m in Patch, so there’s a good chance he won’t find me here. Even if he makes it to Vale, my trail ends at Beacon University. I should be safe until school starts again in September, and then… Well, then I’ll figure it out.”

“Have you told Yang yet?” Ilia asks.

“No. I just… It’s easier that way. Nobody else needs to get involved. I felt bad enough telling you.”

“Don’t. You met Adam _because_ of me. It’s only fair that I help you out however I can.”

Blake frowns. “Ilia, we’re not having this conversation again. It wasn’t your fault.”

There’s a stubborn silence, only broken when Ilia lets out a long, involuntary yawn. Blake shakes her head, fondly exasperated. “I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Ilia protests, her tone betraying her concern. “I don’t mind staying on the phone if you need to talk.”

Raucous laughter resounds from the living room, and suddenly Blake is overcome with the desire to be with Yang and her family, surrounded by light and joy and easy affection, far, far away from her mistakes. “I’m sure. Thanks, Ilia. Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll call you if I hear anything. And Blake…”

“Yeah?”

“Try to enjoy your summer, okay? You deserve it.”

Blake hums noncommittally, and ends the call. Ilia is a good friend, and she loves her for thinking so, but that isn’t the slightest bit true. She’s not sure what she deserves - she just knows a fun summer vacation ain’t it.

She’ll still cherish every second of happiness before it inevitably falls apart.

 

  
Yang catches the car keys in the air. “Thanks dad!” she says, with a smile a little too wide to be sincere. “We’ll be back for dinner!” Her voice is noticeably higher than usual.

Blake grimaces, but Tai doesn’t seem to notice. “Drive safely. Call if you need anything,” he replies, cheerful, as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

“We will,” Blake promises, pushing Yang out of the door. “Bye everyone!” Ruby waves at them from her seat at the kitchen table, sleepily eating her cereal.

As soon as they’re alone in the car, Yang sighs. ”Ugh, I hate lying to them.”

“Come on, it’s for a good cause.” In all fairness, Blake does feel a little bad. It was too easy to convince Tai and Summer that they were going to spend the day in Vale with some friends from school. Neither of them questioned any of it. And now, here they are, Yang driving carefully across the bridge that connects Patch to the mainland, on their way to Vale.

Yang is tense during the whole trip, fingers tight around the steering wheel, and they don’t talk much until they reach Vale’s nightlife neighborhood - one of the less savory areas of town. She parks the car in front of a run down industrial building with a plaque that just reads “Junior’s”.

“We’re here.”

“ _That’s_ where your friend works?” Blake asks, peering through the window at the seedy establishment.

Yang looks sheepish. “He owns the place, actually. And I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend.”

Blake shakes her head as they get out of the car. “How come this guy’s helping you, then? Doesn’t look like the kind of place that promotes altruism.”

“I found out through Qrow that he sells bootleg liquor. I promised not to say anything if he did me a favor.”

“So you’re blackmailing him,” Blake says, deadpan.

“Yep.”

Yang gives her an unapologetic shrug as she pushes the door open, and they walk inside the club. It’s still early in the day, which means the only people here are employees milling around, wiping tables and setting up the place for the night. A man in his late thirties sits at the bar, a glass of bourbon on the counter, working on his laptop.

Yang takes a deep breath, and strides decisively towards him. Blake follows, silently cataloguing the number of people present, and the location of the nearest exit. Old habits die hard.

“Hey Junior! It’s a little early for a drink, don’t ya think?” Yang’s voice rings loud and clear, and the man swivels his stool around to face her. He grins, showing his teeth. Blake immediately hates him.

“Hey, Blondie, I was wondering when you’d show up.” He takes off his shaded glasses - _ridiculous_ -, and swirls the alcohol in his glass. His gaze lingers on Yang’s chest.

“Her eyes are up here,” Blake snaps, tone icy. Junior frowns, clearly annoyed, and Yang shoots her a surprised glance, before turning her attention back to him.

“So you saw her.”

“Yeah. She actually wanted to speak with me, about some business stuff. I told her I wasn’t interested. She a relative of yours?”

Yang ignores the question. “I want proof. Show me the security footage.”

“Fine. Sit down,” he says, gesturing towards the metallic stool near him.

They walk up to the bar, but neither of them sits. Junior rolls his eyes and opens an application on his laptop. Then he selects a file, and a video starts playing. Yang’s body tenses, her back muscles stiffening visibly under her light tank top, as Junior fast-forwards till he finds the relevant part.

A woman, dark-haired and tall, face obscured by the dim light, enters the club. She looks around and seems to spot something behind the bar. “Can you zoom in?” Yang requests, eyes stuck on the screen. The woman straightens up and moves forward, and out of shot.

“This isn’t a damn Hollywood movie, Blondie. That’s all I can do.”

“Fuck.” Yang runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You said she had business with you, right? Can you arrange a meeting with her? Tell her you changed your mind?”

Junior raises an eyebrow, hesitant. “I mean, maybe. But I'd rather not. I don’t wanna get mixed up in whatever shit she’s up to. And that’s coming from me!”

Yang leans into his personal space, quietly menacing. “Do it,” Yang orders, voice low. She looks _dangerous_ , and a shiver runs down Blake’s spine - but it has nothing to do with fear.

Junior nods, gulping. Yang softens. “Good. Call me when it’s done. And I’ll forget everything I know about how you run your club.”

She grabs Blake’s hand and leads her towards the exit. “Hey! What about that drink you promised me?” Junior calls out behind them. Yang doesn’t even bother responding.

They retreat into a small cafe in downtown Vale, and order some lunch. Yang fiddles with the menu for a while, pretending to read even though her mind is obviously elsewhere, and Blake gives her some space, sipping her iced tea and absentmindedly texting Sun.

“Sorry I got kinda intense in there. I hope I didn’t freak you out,” Yang says after the waitress brings them their food, intently staring at her bagel.

“Don’t apologize,” Blake says. “I liked seeing this side of you.”

She blushes as soon as the words leave her mouth, and now _she’s the one_ staring at her food, embarrassed at the admission, and not entirely sure why. When she musters the courage to look up again, Yang’s mouth is quirked into a smile, and the tip of her ears have turned pink, and she looks so lovely like that, smug and bashful all at once - a startling wave of tenderness rises inside of Blake and floods her chest, leaving her speechless.

 

  
Blake leaves the bathroom and pads back to Yang’s bedroom in her night dress, yawning as she opens the door. It’s been a long day, and her neck aches from the drive back to Patch. She couldn’t wait for dinner to be over - she’s ready to sleep.

She finds Yang sitting on her bed with her arms around her legs, chin resting on her knees, gazing through the window. She looks small, all curled up on herself like that, and it makes something twinge in the back of Blake’s throat.

“Are you okay?”

Yang shrugs, without looking at her. Blake leans against the closed door. “What’s up?”

“It’s just a lot. I kinda… gave up on finding my mom, after all this time. And now it seems like this thing I’ve wanted for all my life is actually going to happen, and I’m… scared.” Yang shakes her head in disbelief. “I thought I’d be braver, you know.”

Blake remembers the first time Yang told her about Raven. It was in November, on a rainy afternoon spent studying in their dorm room. They were both taking a break from work, and Yang had boiled water and brewed them some peppermint tea. Blake doesn’t know how they went from complaining about their sociology papers to Yang talking about her birth mother, but she remembers sitting on her bed and listening to Yang’s story. She remembers the warm cup of tea in her hand, the crisp aroma of mint, the deafening splattering of rain against the window, and the look on Yang’s face, so vulnerable and resolute.

Blake joins Yang on her bed, and gathers her in her arms. Yang doesn’t move at first, clearly not expecting the gesture, until her arms slide around Blake’s waist, and she hugs her back.

“Yang, you’re the bravest person I know,” Blake says, in her ear. “And it’s okay to be scared. Just remember that whatever happens, I’m on your side.”

Yang’s arms tighten around her. Blake lets her hold on for as long as she needs. When they separate, Yang is smiling, a little self-conscious, sure, but genuinely happy. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know how I would deal with any of this without you.”

That night, Blake falls asleep realizing that whatever reason lead her to Patch this summer, it gave her the chance to be there for Yang when she needed her, and the thought is both surprising and heartwarming. Sometimes, she understands in a spark of clarity, just before she dozes off, a good thing can come out of even the most unfortunate circumstances.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, now add some compost. More than that, Blake, don’t be shy.”

Blake makes a face at her, nose wrinkling in disgust. Yang just shakes her head in response, amused. The late morning sun is bearing down on them, hot and bright in the middle of the cloudless sky, and sweat runs down Yang’s neck, pooling at the small of her back - her tank top is soaked through. They’ve been gardening for hours, just the two of them, kneeling on the ground in the backyard with little to no shade. Yang loves it all - the smell of wet dirt and rusty tools, the burn of the sun on her bare shoulders, the challenging task of teaching a mildly grumpy Blake the basics of gardening.

Blake adjusts her straw hat, and a few curls of dark hair escape from her messy bun, sticking to her temples. Following Yang’s instructions, she fills the series of small holes they just made with compost, wielding her trowel like she finds the whole experience downright _harrowing_. Yang has to bite her cheeks to stop herself from laughing at her. Blake is just so damn cute when she’s pouty.

She flicks the rim of Blake’s hat. “Quit being such a baby. We need the compost, otherwise the plants won’t grow as well.”

“I know,” Blake grumbles, though she’s staring at the bucket of compost with murderous intent. “Still gross. Can we get on to the next part?”

Yang rolls a seed between her fingers, and pushes it into the soft mixture of dirt and compost, then hands the small packet of seeds to Blake. “Here, you do it. Make sure they’re completely buried.”

She goes to grab the watering can and a bundle of wooden stakes. When she comes back, Blake’s finished planting the seeds.

“What are these for?” Blake asks, indicating the stakes with a tilt of her chin.

“Tomato plants need something to keep them off the ground. You wanna help me put them in?”

“Sure,” Blake says, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. She leaves smudges of dirt on her skin, and Yang’s heart aches with this new _thing_ that’s been happening lately, every time Blake does something endearing, this confusing mix of tenderness and desire, and it’s… _inconvenient_. She doesn’t want to look at her feelings too closely - she’s already dealing with enough of a mess these days, what with Raven constantly lurking at the forefront of her mind. She doesn’t have time for whatever this is. So yeah, inconvenient.

“Hold on,” she says, anyway. She licks her thumb and gently wipes the grime off Blake’s forehead. 

The grin Blake gives her in response is adorably bashful. It doesn’t help with the small storm of emotions raging inside Yang’s heart. 

“We’ve been working for hours. When do I get to eat some damn tomatoes?” Blake asks, playfully petulant.

Yang tuts, and pretends to stroke a beard she definitely doesn’t possess. “Patience, my young apprentice,” she lectures, in her most pompous voice. “It will take some time before the fruits of our labor are ready to…”

Her phone pings, interrupting her monologue. She takes it out of her pocket, heart racing. 

“Any news?” Blake says.

“Nah, just a text from Weiss. She’s having a hard time with her asshole of a father.”

Yang sends Weiss a quick reply, as disappointment washes over her. “You should call her,” Blake offers, carefully. “You haven’t talked to her in a while.”

“I will, I will. I just can’t focus on anything but Raven right now.”

Blake frowns like she’s about to argue, but instead her face softens, and when she speaks, it’s in a reassuring tone.

“I know you’re getting antsy about the wait. But there’s no need to worry, these things take time. Besides, Junior is way too afraid of you not to come through.”

Yang plants a stake into the ground and pushes hard. It sinks into the wet earth without resistance. “She’s just so close, Blake. I’ve waited for so long to meet her, and she’s so close.”

It’s been a week since their visit to Junior, and she hasn’t heard anything. Well, that’s not true, she did text him once asking for news. He replied that he was working on it, which did nothing to calm Yang. She hates waiting - sitting still isn’t her style. 

And she’s been waiting her whole life for this. 

 

Patch doesn’t have anything resembling a proper downtown - the island is just a bunch of scattered houses separated from each other by a mishmash of fields and woods - but the main road, at least, is lined with a few stores and restaurants. There, in between a gas station and a taqueria, stands the tiniest, and oldest, movie theater known to mankind, aptly named the Titanic.

The Titanic only shows one movie per week, the same every evening, and it’s almost always old classics that Yang’s never heard of. She used to complain a lot about it, when she was younger, but now she finds it charming, in its own way, like old-fashioned things often are when they remind you of home.

“Hey, they’re playing _Frankenstein_ this week at the Titanic,” Ruby announces one day. They’re having a picnic on the beach, and she’s distractedly browsing _Patch Magazine_ , their local newspaper, while eating her sandwich. “I was thinking of inviting my friend Oscar to go to the movies. You guys wanna join us?”

Yang shrugs, sipping her iced tea. “Yeah, why not. Blake, what do you think?”

“I’m in,” Blake says, with more enthusiasm than Yang expects. “I love black and white movies!”

“Of course you do, you beautiful nerd,” Yang teases. It takes her a few seconds to realize she just called Blake _beautiful_ , and her cheeks grow warm. She dips her head, a little self conscious, but it doesn’t really matter, because Blake’s already thrown a banana peel at her in retaliation for the nerd comment.

The fight that ensues ends with Yang’s face sticky with iced tea, Blake coughing out sea water, and Ruby taking cover behind her _Patch Magazine_.

They agree on Friday night. Oscar’s mom drops him off at the house, and they all walk together to the theater. Oscar is a new kid from Ruby’s high school, and though Yang’s heard a lot about him, it’s the first time they meet in person. He’s nice, as far as Yang can tell, if a little shy. Thankfully, her sister is loud enough for two.

“Who’s ready for the movie?” Ruby singsongs, her voice resonating in the quiet evening as she skips ahead of the group like an excited puppy.

“You certainly are,” Blake mumbles, not unkindly. Ruby sticks her tongue at her, and Oscar giggles.

Yang throws an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “Aww, guys, look at us! It’s like we’re on a double date!”

“Uh, Ruby and I are not dating, _obviously_ ,” Oscar rushes to deny, looking mildly offended.

“Gee, thanks,” Ruby grumbles, before adding, “but seriously, we’re not. Are you guys dating?” 

“Oh uh… no, we’re… no,” Blake stammers. Her cheeks turn bright pink, and she bites her lip nervously, and her eyelashes flutter, and it’s _the cutest fucking thing Yang’s ever seen_. She wants to make it happen again. She wants to make it happen all the time.

She tightens her grip around Blake’s shoulders, and clutches her chest with her other hand. “Oh, Blake, darlin’, you’re breaking my heart!” she declares, like an overdramatic soap opera actress. “And to think I was gonna buy you some popcorn!”

Blake rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t push her away, and so Yang keeps her pressed close to her side until they reach the theater. 

They buy the tickets, and make their way into the tiny lobby. The air smells faintly of dust and hot buttered popcorn.

“Do _I_ get popcorn?” Ruby pouts, poking Yang in the ribs. “Or is the offer only valid for your not-date?”

Of course, Yang ends up buying popcorn for everyone, because she’s way too nice. She grumbles a little about it, but Ruby is grinning at her, delighted, and Blake’s eyes twinkle with fond amusement, and, really, if Yang is honest with herself, it’s totally worth it.

The Titanic only has one room, with a grand total of fifty seats. A few people are already waiting, most of whom Yang and Ruby recognize - the benefits of growing up in such a small community. The four of them make their way to one of the middle rows in the semi-darkness, and choose their seats.

“It’s a horror movie, you know, technically. You gonna be scared?” Yang whispers to Blake as they sit next to each other on the plush red velvet chairs.

Blake huffs, a small, indignant sound. “Please.”

“It’s okay if you wanna hold my hand during the scary parts,” Yang laughs, “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Blake swats her knee. “Are you going to talk through the whole movie? Cause I’m not above gagging you.”

“Kinky,” is Yang’s only reply, just as the lights dim. She can’t see the face Blake makes, it’s too dark, but she hears Blake’s breath faltering ever so slightly, and the way she swallows, hard, like her mouth got very dry, and Yang smirks, satisfied and not entirely sure why.

(That’s a lie. She knows exactly why, she’s just not quite ready to face it yet.)

After the movie, they all walk home together. Oscar and Ruby are farther ahead on the path, talking animatedly and sharing the last of the popcorn. The night has fallen by now, and everything seems muted under the faint light of the moon, trees blurring into each other, shadows dancing on the road.

“Not too bad, for a not-date,” Blake says, a smile teasing at the corner of her mouth, as Yang and her trail behind the other two.

“What _was_ your last date like?” Yang asks, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jean shorts.

She’s not sure why she’s curious, all of a sudden. She never payed much attention to Blake’s love life during the school year - Blake never brought anyone to their dorm room, and she never spent the night out, as far as Yang knows. Not that Yang did either, unless you count that ill-advised one night stand with a sorority girl whose name she can’t even remember.

“I think it was with that guy, the one I met in my judo class, in February,” Blake says slowly, like the details are a little fuzzy. “Dinner and a movie, never saw him again. He was nice, but not my type.”

“What’s your type?” 

The words come out of Yang’s mouth a little rushed, _expectant_ , and her lungs feel too full, somehow, like she’s holding all the air inside. “Or is that another one of your secrets?” she jokes, forcing a lighter tone. The back of her neck burns.

Blake tilts her head towards her, grinning. “Well, he didn’t buy me popcorn, for one thing.”

Yang’s lungs empty all at once, and now she’s breathless, and oh. _Oh_. She’s in _so much_ trouble.

 

It takes almost another full week of waiting, until finally, one day, as Yang is sitting on a stool in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for the evening meal, she gets a text from Junior. It’s short, and it makes her heart stop.

_“Tonight. 9pm.”_

Yang glances at the clock, blood thumping in her ears. It’s already five-thirty in the afternoon. She doesn’t hesitate. She runs out of the kitchen and to her room, where Blake is lounging on her bed, reading a book. 

“Get your stuff, we have to go. Raven is meeting Junior in Vale in three hours.”

To her credit, Blake doesn’t ask questions, jumping to her feet, catching her phone and wallet from the bedside table. Yang grabs her jacket, pats the pockets to make sure everything she needs is in there, and signals for Blake to follow. She leads them out of the house, to the shed where she keeps her bike, and doesn’t say a word as she removes her helmet from the rack.

“Your parents?” Blake asks, matter-of-factly, putting her own helmet on.

“There’s no time,” Yang replies. She turns on the engine, and Blake settles behind her, and just like that, they’re gone, on their way to Vale.

It’s not a comfortable ride, three hours on a bike, especially when Yang’s mind is racing with anticipation. She tries to focus on the road, on the machine roaring between her legs, on Blake’s arms tight around her stomach. Thankfully, they make it with some time to spare. Yang parks the bike near Junior’s club. She can feel her phone vibrating like crazy in her pocket, and she knows Tai and Summer must be trying to reach her, wondering where they disappeared. She turns off her phone, without even looking at it. 

Her palms are sweaty, so she wipes them on the front of her jeans. She looks down at herself.

“God, I’m a mess,” she whispers. Her hair is a disaster, there’s a coffee stain on her white t-shirt, and her boots are dusty from the road. Anxiety rises to her mouth like bubbles in water, but before she has time to panic, Blake’s hand taps her shoulder, gentle but firm.

“You look just fine. You’ll be _fine_. I’m here, okay?”

Yang places her own hand on Blake’s fingers, briefly, a silent thank you. Then she takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

They’re both immediately assaulted by the noise, bass throbbing low like an anxious heartbeat, techno tunes filling the room. It’s early evening, but the club is already packed with people dancing to the frantic rhythm. Yang blinks as her eyes get used to the flashing lights. She catches sight of Junior, behind the bar, and takes a few steps toward him.

As soon as he sees her, he beckons her to the left side of the bar. “She isn’t here yet,” he tells her, over the counter, talking loudly enough to be heard over the music. “Take a seat, blondie. I’ll make you a drink.”

“I’m good,” Yang says. She wants to keep her head clear - this is too important. Blake touches her shoulder again, and moves closer, so she can whisper in Yang’s ear. “Do you want me to wait with you?”

Yang shakes her head. “No. I have to do this on my own.”

Blake nods, and gives her shoulder one last soft squeeze, before she makes her way to the other side of the bar, far enough that she’s out of earshot, but still in Yang’s field of vision.

Yang sits on a bar stool, and waits. God, she _hates_ waiting. Junior slides a can of soda and some peanuts her way, and she munches on them distractedly, eyes on the door.

A few minutes pass, then a few more. She looks over to where Blake is sitting, and frowns. A tall dude with an unfortunate man-bun is chatting her up, smiling, standing way too close for comfort. Dread fills Yang’s chest in an instant, but just as quickly it dissipates, as Blake says something that must be a serious burn, judging by the look on the guy’s face.

He leaves, dejected, but now Yang can’t help but notice how many men are looking at Blake. Two guys in suits are leering at her from the middle of the dance floor - Blake ignores them, but it still makes Yang clench her jaw. A man sporting a questionable mustache pushes a shot glass towards Blake with a wink - this time, Yang almost laughs out loud as Blake doesn’t miss a beat and pushes it right back towards him. She catches another creep out of the corner of her eye, a guy in dark clothes staring at Blake from a table near the wall, his bright red hair shining under the superficial lights. 

Yang breathes out. She burns with the urge to tell them all to _fuck off and leave Blake alone_ , but she refrains from intervening. Blake’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. Besides, Yang needs to focus on Raven. 

Just as she turns away from Blake, the door to the club opens, a woman walks in, and Yang’s breath hitches. _She looks so familiar_ , is her first thought as the woman moves through the crowd towards the bar. It’s like looking at her reflection in a distorted mirror. Her hair is dark and unruly, her eyes brown with a reddish glint - but they share the same height, the same round face.

The woman - Raven - stops in her tracks. She takes Yang in, giving her one long, slow, appraising look. Yang doesn’t move, petrified. “Yang,” Raven says, almost too low for Yang to hear - and it can’t just be her imagination, there’s awe and wonder in her voice. Yang feels sudden hope, but before she has time to react, Raven smirks.

“You take after your father,” she says, nonchalantly, as she hops on the stool next to Yang. Her voice is clear and confident, her posture alert.

Yang swallows. “Hi,” she manages, and then her throat closes up and she can’t talk. She’s dreamed of this moment so often - how it would feel, what she would say. She’s mentally written so many speeches, she’s imagined a thousand scenarios. Nothing could have prepared her for the reality of Raven Branwen, her mother, sitting in front of her for the first time in eighteen years.

“How do you know who I am?”

Raven shrugs. “You’re just like me when I was your age.” She gestures to Junior, and glances at Yang. “What are you drinking?”

“Nothing,” Yang says. It comes out a little curt, almost defensive. Raven quirks an eyebrow.

“Though the similarities are only physical, it seems.”

Junior brings her a glass of something dark, and Raven takes a big gulp, before turning back to Yang. “How did you find me anyway?”

Junior tenses behind the bar, but Yang keeps her cool. “Uncle Qrow.”

Raven hums, disapproving. “Of course. That drunk idiot has never been able to keep his mouth shut.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about my family like that!”

Raven chuckles, and raises both hands in mock surrender. Yang looks at her, then, and her chest feels heavy, like a great weight is pushing against her ribcage, crushing her collarbones. The woman in front of her is nothing like she thought. She’s perfectly happy to have a conversation with the child she abandoned at birth, yet she shows not remorse. She acts indifferent, but she’s still invested in Yang, somehow. It’s not enough, but it’s also not _nothing_ , and Yang is lost, confused, heartbroken, all at once.

“Why did you leave?” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles.

Raven looks at her glass, then downs the rest of the alcohol. “You shouldn’t have come,” she whispers instead of answering, not looking at Yang. “This was a mistake. If I’d known…”

“I don’t care!” Yang snaps, but before she can say anything else, there’s a loud noise by the door, and sirens echo from the street, and the music stops abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” Raven says, standing up from her seat. She sounds sincere, her eyes apologetic as she takes one last look at her daughter, and then she moves so fast that in an instant she’s gone, vanishing in the crowd like a ghost.

Yang wants to runs after her, but she’s frozen in place. She watches, lost in a daze, Junior swearing loudly and rushing to the back door, only to be pushed back inside by two police men. Police officers are everywhere, people groaning in annoyance and confusion as they get carded and told to disperse. She realizes distantly that Blake is standing at her side, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket, trying to get her to move - but it’s too late.

A police man comes up to them and asks for their IDs. “Under 21,” he notes, flashing his light in their eyes. “You two been drinking?”

“No,” Yang says, distracted. She’s still thinking of Raven, eyes scouring the crowd with the vague hope that she’ll be here, somewhere, still within reach. Everything just happened so terribly _fast_.

The police man sighs. “You got a phone on you, kid?”

Yang frowns. “Yeah, why?”

“Call your parents.”

 

The drive home is three hours of excruciatingly tense silence. 

Tai was already halfway to Vale when Yang called, searching for the two of them, so when he pulls up in front of the club a little more than an hour later, and sees them sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by the police, he rushes over and hugs Yang, eyes filled with worry. As soon as he finishes talking with the police officer in charge of them, though, his face closes. 

“In the car,” he orders curtly, gesturing to Yang and Blake. “We’re going home. We’ll come back for your bike another day.” 

They comply in silence, and he doesn’t utter another word for the remainder of the trip. Yang presses her cheek against the cold, hard window panel, and closes her eyes. She hears Blake fidgeting with her seatbelt next to her, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. Her stomach curdles like spoiled cream, and she’s afraid she’s gonna be sick if she opens her mouth. Part of her wants to cry, wants to tell her dad what happened and sob into his shoulder, the way she used to when she was a little girl. But this is not as simple a wound as a scratched knee, and the other part of her, the louder part of her, wants to smash the car window open. 

This was her one chance, and now Raven’s gone, and she might never find her again. Yang clenches her fists, so tight her nails leave red half-circles imprints on her palms. When they finally reach the house in Patch, her sadness has solidified into anger, and she feels numb except for the middle of her chest, burning with rage and disappointment. 

Summer is waiting for them in the living room. When she sees Yang and Blake unharmed and safe, she lets out a sigh of relief, before her eyes narrow and she points to the couch. “Sit.”

Yang plops down on the couch, not bothering to hide her frustration. She knows she’s in for a lecture, and she’s not in the mood for it. Every time she blinks, she sees Raven’s face, and Raven’s words are still ringing in her ears, and she wants to scream her throat raw. 

“What in the world where you two thinking?” Summer asks as she starts pacing in front of them. Tai leans against the door to the kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest, lips curving down in a frown.

Blake looks at Yang, unsure. Yang shrugs. “We just wanted to have fun. It’s not a crime.”

“The _truth_ , Yang,” Summer replies, stern and no-nonsense, like always when she’s seriously pissed off. She takes a deep breath, and softens. “You’ve never done anything like this. You’ve always been a good kid…”

“Well, I’m not a kid anymore!” Yang snaps, too loud. The anger inside her spills out like boiling milk. “ _We’re_ not kids. We’re both eighteen! Blake’s turning nineteen in a month!”

“That’s still way too young to go to a club like this one, and you know it,” Tai snaps back, just as loud. “Not to mention that you two disobeyed one of the only rules we have, and left without telling anyone. Do you know how worried we were?”

Blake winces, and speaks for the first time since they got in the car. “I’m… I’m so sorry about everything…”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” Yang interrupts, glaring at her parents. 

“Yang, calm down,” Summer scolds. “You’re not helping your case.”

“This is ridiculous!” Yang explodes, standing up. “Okay, fine, we’re not twenty-one and shouldn’t have gone to that stupid club, and we should have told you about it, whatever. Big fucking deal! We didn’t do anything wrong, we didn’t drink, we didn’t get arrested, we’re both _adults_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“If you want to be treated like an adult, how about you start acting like one,” Summer retorts, calmly facing Yang. “Stop yelling at us, and tell us what’s really going on. You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

“Shut up! You’re not my fucking _mom_.” 

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Yang immediately regrets them. There’s a flicker of hurt in Summer’s eyes, and Blake’s mouth opens in shock. Silence stretches between the four of them. Yang knows they all expect her to apologize for the outburst, but she clenches her teeth together, stubbornly refusing to talk. She’s been itching for a fight for hours - she won’t back down now.

“Okay,” Tai says. He sounds more sad than angry, now, and his voice makes Yang’s chest sting with sudden guilt. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We're all tired. You two, go upstairs. We’ll resume this conversation later.”

Yang doesn’t look anyone in the eye as she storms off.

 

She runs up the stairs and slams the door behind her and yeah, maybe she’s a little ashamed of the way she’s acting, like she’s fourteen years old again. But this night has been _a lot_ , and she is overwhelmed and hurting and too wound up to care. It’s only when she throws herself on her bed and hides her face in the pillow that the tears come.

Yang doesn’t cry very often, but when she does, it’s a violent affair, sobs racking her body while she struggles to breathe through the tears, pressing her fists to her eyelids so hard she sees stars. She wants to scream and punch something and curl up in a ball and disappear for a while, and she’s so utterly lost in her emotions, she barely hears the door open and close. A warm hand touches her arm.

“Yang,” Blake says, softly. It sounds like a question.

Yang cries harder, unable to speak.

Blake sits on the edge of the bed, and doesn’t say anything else, but she strokes Yang’s back, fingers slowly running down the line of her spine, and then all the way up to her shoulder blades. Her hand cups the nape of Yang’s neck for a brief moment, before she starts rubbing small circles into Yang’s skin.

It’s soothing, unexpectedly so, the way Blake touches her, the quietness of her, the warm, light weight of her fingertips. It anchors Yang, and gradually, she calms down, until the tears stop altogether, until her breath evens out. She rolls around and looks up at Blake wordlessly, a little self-conscious but mostly just terribly vulnerable. Blake brushes wet hair away from her face. ”Let’s get you in your pajamas, alright?”

Yang sniffles, and nods. Blake hands her a tank top and some sleep shorts, and changes into her night dress. Yang feels like she’s underwater, like she’s drunk on emotions and tears, moving through the motions absently.

When they’re both dressed for the night, Blake guides her back to the bed, tucks wild locks of hair behind her ear, nails scratching her scalp gently. “Come on, go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

Blake straightens, like she’s about to get up and leave for her own bed, and suddenly the perspective of sleeping alone is terrifying. Yang’s hand shoots up and she catches Blake’s wrist.

“Stay,” she murmurs. It sounds like she’s begging, but she doesn’t give a damn. She stares at Blake. “Please.”

Blake looks at her with eyes so soft it almost makes her cry again, and nods. “Of course.” She lies next to Yang and puts an arm around Yang’s body. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, low and sure. Yang feels her breath against the back of her neck, and she shivers.

This is how she falls asleep, with sore eyes and a damp pillow, and the comforting weight of Blake’s arm around her waist.


	4. Chapter 4

Blake wakes up to rays of sunshine falling on her face, and the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is Yang looking at her, head propped up on her hand. 

Yang smiles, and Blake smiles too, and for a moment, they don’t talk. Blake studies Yang’s face, tracing with curious eyes the line of her lips and the tiny dimple of her chin, counting the myriad of freckles on her cheeks and nose. This should be awkward, but Yang doesn’t show any signs of unease, and she’s just so _pretty_ in the morning light. 

But birds are chirping outside the window, and the sun is bright, and so Blake resigns herself to getting out of bed. 

“How long have you been awake?”

Yang glances at the alarm clock on her bedside table. “Half an hour, maybe?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Blake asks, yawning. “Isn’t it, like, your favorite thing to do?”

Yang bites her lip. “Take it as my thank you for your help last night.”

Suddenly everything comes back to Blake and she sits up, fully awake. “Oh, Yang.”

Yang sits up too, crossing her legs. “Yeah. Crazy night, uh?” She sends Blake a sheepish half-smile, and Blake frowns. Yang’s light tone means she’s feeling better, which is good, but she’s also clearly trying to deflect.

“Yang… what happened with Raven?”

Yang takes a deep breath, and turns to face the window. The sun is already high in the sky - they must have slept later than usual. Blake takes Yang’s hand in her own, and rubs her thumb on the soft skin of Yang’s palm, until Yang starts talking.

She tells Blake what Raven said, and how she acted, dismissive and casual and full of vaguely forced indifference. She ends the tale with the revelation that Raven left her daughter to deal with the police on her own.

“She knew what was going to happen, and she just… ran, before she could get in trouble. I’m kinda wondering if she’s the one who called the cops, to be honest.” Yang shakes her head. “Almost makes me feel bad for Junior.”

Blake stays silent. She can’t imagine what Yang must think of this woman who keeps running away from her, in every possible way she can. _There’s nothing in the world that would make me run away from you_ , she wants to say.

“Are you going to tell your parents?” she asks, instead, because the fight from last night is still fresh in her mind. Yang’s face falls.

“I will, but not yet. I gotta take some time to figure out what I want - from them, from Raven.”

Blake hums her understanding, still rubbing her hand. Yang scratches her neck, and lowers her eyes.

“Blake, about the way I acted last night… I’m sorry you had to see that. I was really angry and frustrated about everything, and… I don’t know, it was overwhelming. I just want you to know I’m not proud of it.”

Blake’s mind flashes to Adam’s face when he realized she’d betrayed him, the furor and bitterness in his eyes, the cruel slant of his mouth when he slashed at her leg with a fishing knife, his screams ringing in her ears as she escaped to safety. She swallows, and cradles Yang’s hand between hers, throat tight.

“Thank you for saying that, but you have nothing to apologize for. I understand, and _I know you_.”

“Okay.” Yang says, with a small grateful smile. She sighs. “Time to face the music, I guess.”

They make their way downstairs to the kitchen, where they find everybody having breakfast. As soon as he sees them, Tai ruffles Ruby’s hair. “Hey, kiddo. Would you let us talk to these two in private, please?”

Ruby’s eyes jump from Yang and Blake to her parents, obviously trying to piece together what happened the night before. “Sure,” she says, picking her bowl of cereal in one hand and her orange juice in the other, before exiting the room.

Yang sits on one of the chairs, drumming her fingers on the wooden table. Blake leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms against her chest to hide her nerves. “I’m sorry,” Yang starts, her voice firm. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you guys last night.”

Tai sits besides her, and rests a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry too, Yang. We could have handled all of this better. Summer and I were clearly too worried and angry to have that conversation, we should have waited.”

Yang looks up towards Summer. Her eyes are watery, and it tugs at Blake’s heart so painfully, she has to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from reaching for her. “What I said… I was really mean to you. I’m sorry.”

Summer hands Yang a mug of coffee, and then cups her cheek, briefly, gently. “It’s all forgotten. I just want you to talk to us, Yang. Clearly something happened to make you so angry. So please, will you tell us what’s going on?”

Yang swallows, and glances at Blake, as if to steel herself. “I will, I promise. I just need a little more time.”

Blake smiles at her, trying her best to be supportive. This whole ordeal has been so hard for Yang - Blake wishes she could hug her, right there and now. She wishes she could tell Yang how proud of her she is.

“We can respect that,” Tai answers calmly, though his frown suggests he’s not entirely happy with the answer. 

“But you’re not off the hook just yet,” Summer continues, sternly, eyes turning towards Blake. “And neither are you, Blake.”

Guilt simmers into Blake’s stomach, familiar and sour. 

“I was this close to calling your parents, you know. We are responsible for you.”

“It’s not her fault,” Yang starts to protest, glancing at Blake apologetically, but Blake shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” she says, in a small voice. “I really am. You’ve been so nice and welcoming, the last thing I want is to cause any problems.”

Summer looks at her quietly for a moment, and Blake fidgets a little under her careful eyes, suddenly feeling very much like a repentant child after a scolding. But she holds Summer’s gaze nonetheless, because owning up to her mistakes is something she promised herself she’d do after Adam.

And she does feel especially bad for Summer, who got the brunt of Yang lashing out. 

“It won’t happen again,” Blake adds seriously.

Tai nods. “Okay, then. Let’s put this past us. Yang, you wanna go get your bike?”

Tai and Yang are gone for the better part of the day, so Blake hangs out with Ruby, playing cards in the backyard. “Soooo… what did you guys do?” Ruby asks her as she shuffles the deck, eyeing Blake suspiciously.

Blake twists a blade of grass between her fingers. “Got in trouble with the police, actually - nothing serious though, don’t worry. But you’ll have to ask your sister for more details.”

Ruby sighs, expertly dealing the cards. “Whatever it is, I don’t think she wanna talk to _me_ about it.”

There’s an almost awkward pause, as Blake wonders if she should apologize, or explain, or say anything at all, but then Ruby smiles. “I’m glad she has you, though. You’re a good friend, Blake.”

It’s a compliment, and she takes it as one, thanking Ruby with a smile as well. And yet, something about the statement sounds off, though she can’t quite figure it out. The feeling stays with her all day, like an itch at the back of her brain, frustratingly vague.

That evening, when they get ready for the night, Yang sits on her bed and looks straight at Blake, eyes wide and earnest, and Blake immediately understands the silent invitation, and slides wordlessly under the sheets next to Yang. Her arm curls around Yang’s waist, and she falls asleep with her nose buried in Yang’s hair. 

She jolts awake in the middle of the night, her mind filled with images of her mouth moving against Yang’s mouth, her tongue running down Yang’s neck, her hands on Yang’s skin.

 _Oh_ , Blake thinks, staring a Yang’s bare shoulders, rising and falling as she breathes evenly in her sleep. _So that’s what’s happening._

 

They spend the next five nights sleeping together in Yang’s bed, and they don’t talk about it once, like it’s no big deal that every morning they wake up cuddling together, like it’s just something friends do. Blake tries her hardest to ignore the situation until she finally gives up, on the afternoon of the fifth day. She puts on her straw hat and her sunglasses, helps herself to a tall glass of iced tea, sits on the grass in an isolated corner of the backyard, and calls Sun.

He answers after the first ring. “Yo, Blake! It’s been forever, dude, how are you?”

Blake can’t help smiling at the genuine excitement in his voice. Sun’s always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his obvious joy is endearing. “Good. You?”

“I’m great! Neptune and I went camping last week, and we saw a giant snake. It was awesome! Oh, and did I tell you I broke up with that girl I was dating, Velvet? Yeah, it wasn’t working out. But it’s cool cause we’re still friends and she introduced me to her pal Yatsuhashi who is super hot and huuuge _if ya know what I mean_ …”

Blake snorts. “Sun, oh my god, breathe!”

“Anyway, Yatsuhashi and I have been going out for a week now, but it’s not awkward with Velvet, which is cool cause I really like her. I wish you were here though, I miss you! Hopefully we can hang out sometime next year - you promised you’d visit Haven eventually.” Sun pauses, panting. “Geez, I see what you mean about the breathing. I feel like I just ran up some stairs. Okay, your turn to talk. What have you been up to? Any fun stories? You dating anyone?”

“No?”

Sun laughs at the uncertainty in her voice. “Are you asking me?”

Blake twirls the straw in her glass, and listens as the ice cubes chime against each other. “Well... I have kind of an ambiguous relationship with this one girl...”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

Blake exhales slowly, and lets herself admit it out loud for the first time. “Yang.”

“Oh, buddy. The roommate, uh? Classic. Have you talked to her about it?”

“No,” Blake sighs. “She’s been dealing with some serious family stuff recently, so I've been waiting for the right time, you know.”

“Gotcha,” Sun replies. “You think she’s into you though?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Maybe? We touch each other a lot. Like, a lot. As in, I’ve been sleeping in her bed for the past week - _don’t laugh_. But, it’s more than just attraction, you know, we’re really good friends. She trusts me with everything that matters to her.”

Blake doesn’t intend to keep going, but to her surprise the words just tumble out of her mouth, her thoughts impossible to contain, like she’s just been dying to talk about Yang. “She’s so strong, Sun, I’ve never met anyone like her. And I don’t mean physically - although, good lord, you should see her abs, they’re like, greek-marble-statue quality. But she’s also very… sweet. And kind. She always puts me at ease. And she’s so funny! Sometimes a huge dork, but in a charming way, you know.”

There’s a silence. Blake takes a sip of iced tea, cheeks burning - she didn’t mean to say so much.

“Blake,” Sun says. He sounds serious, and almost in awe. “You’re in love with her.”

Blake chokes on her drink. “What? No, I’m not.” _I know what love feels like_ , she doesn’t say. There’s nothing simple, nothing warm about love, nothing like what she feels for Yang. “It’s just a crush, Sun.”

“That sounds like way more than a crush. You got it bad, babe.”

Blake stays silent, and Sun’s voice softens. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. I know you haven’t had the best experiences with love, but you gotta give it a try.”

“I don’t… How… What makes you say that?” Blake stutters. She’s never told Sun exactly what went down with Adam. She never found the right words when it all started, and she didn’t want him involved in the mess afterwards.

“Come on, it’s not hard to figure out that something bad happened with that dude, back in high-school. I’m not an idiot.”

“Aren’t you, though?” Blake deflects, drily, but she can’t keep the fondness out of her voice. 

Sun laughs it off. “Whatever, Belladonna. At least I didn’t fall in love with my lesbian college roommate. What kind of cliche…”

“Ugh, shut up,” Blake cuts him off, but she’s laughing as well. “I’ve missed you,” she adds when they’ve both calmed down.

“Oh, I know,” Sun says, annoyingly confident. “Now go get your girl. And don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Talk soon,” Blake replies. “Enjoy your boyfriend and his huge…”

Sun disconnects the call before she can finish, and she spends a solid minute giggling to herself in the backyard.

 

The next day, Ruby invites Oscar to hang out, and she convinces her parents to let the four of them spend the evening on the closest beach, the one that’s a mere five minutes walk away from their house.

They bring snacks and sodas, and Yang smuggles a six-pack of cheap beer. The beach is empty at this late hour, everything quiet around them but for the cries of seagulls and the roll of waves. The sun sets on the ocean in a truly beautiful display of colors, yet while the others are captivated by the sight in front of them, Blake stares at Yang instead. Bathed in the faint orange glow of the disappearing sun, her hair seems almost on fire, her skin like smooth gold. The sand is warm under Blake’s bare legs, and something burns in the pit of her stomach, something so strong she thinks it will consume her before the night is over.

Sun’s words echo in her ears. _You’re in love with her._

When it gets too dark to see, Ruby turns on a big camping lantern, and, with a mouth full of chips, declares that they’re playing _Never Have I Ever_. Yang rolls her eyes, but hands everyone a beer, and they all sit around the light.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” Oscar starts with a cheeky smile.

“Ugh, that was my question too,” Yang grumbles, as Blake takes a sip. Nobody else drinks, and Blake raises an eyebrow. “Really? None of you have kissed a guy?”

Ruby shrugs. “Nope,” she says, before narrowing her eyes. “Never have I ever gotten arrested!”

She looks at Yang and Blake, but Yang grins. “Technically, we weren’t arrested the other night. Nice try though, sis.”

Blake sighs, and takes another sip. Yang’s eyes widen almost comically. “Okay, Belladonna, we’re gonna need to hear that story. Spill.”

“I, hum, was involved with a pretty radical activist group when I was in high-school. A bunch of us got arrested at a march for the environment when it turned a little too rowdy.” Blake remembers throwing rocks at police cars, the acrid smell of teargas making her cough, even from afar, the deafening sound of sirens. Suddenly, she’s sitting in the back of a police truck with Ilia and Adam, and shudders at the memory of his heavy hand on her shoulder, reassuring at the time. He’d seem so calm and collected - his grin exuding confidence even as the officers were marching them inside the police station. She had not seen the cracks in him yet, the hypocrisy, the violence. 

“Hey! Blake! Where did you go?”

She blinks, and she’s back on the beach. Yang is staring at her, mouth twisted in concern. “Sorry,” she says, with an apologetic shrug. “Got lost in a memory.” 

“Well, I don’t think anything is gonna top _that_ story tonight,” Yang says, sifting sand through her fingers as she thinks of her question. “Never have I ever cut class?”

Ruby, Oscar and Blake all drink at the same time - and Blake has to smother her laugh into her hand at the look of utter outrage on Yang’s face, memories of the past forgotten. 

“Guys!” Yang scolds, frowning. “Attendance is super important, not to mention mandatory…”

“Take your turn, Blake, _please_ , save us from the incoming lecture,” Ruby interrupts her, jokingly desperate. Blake thinks for a few seconds, and then looks directly at Yang. “Never have I ever slept with a sorority girl.”

Yang’s mouth opens, and closes in shock. Her cheeks redden a little, and the sight makes Blake’s heart skip a beat. “Wow,” Yang says, after a moment of stunned silence. “That’s a low blow.”

Ruby covers her ears. “I don’t wanna hear anything about it!” she whines, while Oscar coughs to hide his laughter. 

“Congrats on the sex?” he says, hesitantly. Yang shakes her head, and takes a sip of her beer. “You’re gonna pay for that, I promise.”

“Can’t wait,” Blake says with a wink, and she doesn’t mean to flirt, but she can’t help it - there’s something about pushing Yang’s buttons that delights her. Maybe it’s the fact that Yang is actually affected by her teasing. Maybe it’s the hint of playful threat in Yang’s tone, sending shivers down her spine.

Oscar and Ruby are talking, but she’s not listening. Yang is looking at her, still, and Blake can’t look away. The urge to grab Yang’s face and kiss her builds inside her stomach, powerful like the waves rushing to shore, so she lights a cigarette to have something to do with her hands. 

When they run out of questions and beers, Ruby suggests that they switch to a game of truth or dare. It starts mellow, with Yang daring Ruby to try a headstand - she fails miserably, clearly a little light-headed after one beer - and Oscar getting Blake to admit her passion for an obscure country singer.

It ends with Blake daring Yang to go skinny dipping with her.

Ruby clears her throat. “Oookay, that’s our cue to go.” She grabs Oscar’s arm and pulls him away, and they both very carefully avoid looking at Blake and Yang.

Yang doesn’t say a word, but she takes off her shirt in one fluid movement, and cocks her head, silently challenging Blake to follow through. Blake’s heart is hammering inside her chest. Her eyes glide down to Yang’s black bra, the swell of her breasts, the bare skin of her stomach. Her mouth is dry - she wishes there was some beer left.

She turns off the camping lamp, and strips, quickly, before her resolve breaks. Yang does the same, and a few minutes later, the two of them are naked on the deserted beach. In the darkness, Blake can only just guess the shape of Yang, the lines of her body, planes and curves and shadows, all of it enticing in its vagueness. Like a foretaste of what’s to come, it makes her pulse quicken.

Yang still hasn’t said anything, letting her take the lead. And so Blake ignores the heat simmering low in her stomach, and runs into the sea.

 

Afterwards, they walk back home together. Blake puts her wet hair up in a messy bun, and droplets of water keep falling down her neck, running down her spine like a constant reminder of what they just did together. Her clothes are a little damp - they didn’t have towels to dry themselves - but Blake doesn’t mind. It’s one of those summer nights, hot and humid, and the air itself seems to have thickened, everything around them slow and syrupy, honey-like.

They don’t talk at all on the way back. Silence has always been comfortable between her and Yang, ever since they met - silence has always been easy, until tonight. 

Tonight, it’s _tense_ \- the tension that comes from waiting for the inevitable, anticipation weighting like water in Blake’s lungs. She knows they’ve crossed a line. Something is bound to happen. The two of them are walking closer and closer toward the cliff edge, and it’s merely a matter of who will take the last step, who will make the first move, who will jump.

So Blake jumps.

Right before Yang opens the front door, Blake grabs her hand. Yang makes a small noise in the back of her throat, surprise and relief laced together, as she stops in her tracks. Blake pulls her to the side, away from the door, and pushes her backward until Yang’s shoulder blades hit the wall. 

They stand close, so close that Blake can feel Yang’s breath on her mouth, so close that their bare legs brush together. Yang’s eyes widen, darting to Blake’s lips. She inhales sharply, as if preparing to say something, and Blake kisses her.

Yang’s breath catches, her eyes close, her body stiffens. She doesn’t kiss Blake back, frozen under Blake’s mouth, but she doesn’t push her away either. Blake kisses Yang’s lower lip, the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and buries her hands in Yang’s hair, nails lightly scratching her scalp. “Look at me,” she whispers against Yang’s mouth. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Yang’s eyes open and she stares at her, palms rising to cup Blake’s face, thumbs rubbing Blake’s cheekbones. She looks awestruck, and so, so _beautiful_ , that all Blake can do is kiss her again, and again, and again, and this time Yang kisses her back, and oh, it’s everything, kissing Yang is _everything_.

Sparks explode in Blake’s chest, sending trails of fire all the way down between her legs. She licks the salt of the ocean off Yang’s mouth, bites her lower lip playfully, delighting in the whimper that follows. One of Yang’s hands drops to her hip, and squeezes - like a plea, or maybe a warning.

In response, Blake slips her tongue in Yang’s mouth. The kiss turns hot, messy, desperate, the entire world reduced to lips and tongue and teeth. Yang cups the back of her neck, pushing their faces closer together. She tastes like the sun and the sea, like a summer night, warm and wet, sweet and tender.

They break apart to breathe. Blake looks up at Yang with a satisfied grin, about to make a little quip, but she swallows down the words at the smirk Yang gives her. In one swift motion, Yang switches them around, pushing Blake against the wall and pinning Blake’s wrists above her head with one hand. She tilts Blake’s chin up with two fingers, and Blake feels herself grow wet, embarrassingly fast. Yang pauses, looking at her with a question in her eyes. Blake nods, too overwhelmed to talk. 

Yang kisses her again, this time slowly, savoring, licking into Blake’s mouth like she wants to devour her whole. Blake feels blood thrumming in her throat, pulse going wild on the inside of her wrists, and she hums, half a protest and half a moan. Yang sighs and presses the entire length of her body against Blake, licking along Blake’s jaw, sucking little bruises down her neck.

The buckle of Yang’s belt digs into Blake’s hipbone when she slides her bare thigh between Blake’s legs, skin sticky with sweat and salt and sand. 

“Fuck, Yang,” Blake whines, unable to restrain herself. 

“I promised you’d pay for that question, remember?” Yang whispers in her ear, teasingly and entirely too smug. Blake’s knees tremble, desire pulsating between her legs, down her thighs, up her spine.

The door opens abruptly, and light from inside the house spills onto the porch besides them. Yang jumps away from Blake, just as Tai takes a step out of the house. 

“Ah, there you are!” he says, unaware of what he just interrupted. “I got worried when I saw Ruby and Oscar coming back without you two.” He pauses, and seems to take in Blake’s face, the way she leans weakly against the wall, gasping for breath.

“Everything okay, Blake?”

Blake’s cheeks burn hot, and she’s thankful for the relative lack of light. She looks at Yang for help, too dazed to remember how words even work. Yang flashes her father a smile that’s way too cheerful to be sincere. “Yeah, all good! She’s a little out of breath cause we decided to race back home. I think we’re gonna go to sleep now.”

Tai steps aside to let them in, looking a little perplexed, and Blake and Yang hurry upstairs. Blake only starts breathing normally again once the bedroom door closes behind them. Yang sits on her bed, rubbing the back of her neck as she glances up at her.

“So, that happened.”

Blake chuckles. Yes, it did. But the arousal that was burning through her veins barely a minute ago has dimmed down to embers, and Yang’s grin has turned sheepish, no longer dangerous - the mood has changed. “Why don’t we talk about it in the morning?” she offers, fighting a yawn. They have all the time in the world, after all. “Let’s shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” Yang agrees, softly, easily.

 

Blake wakes up half on top of Yang, her head burrowed in the crook of Yang’s neck. Yang’s right arm curls around her, holding her close, one hand resting lazily on her hip. It feels right, like jagged pieces that unexpectedly fit together perfectly, as if made for each other.

Blake breathes in, slowly, and her lungs fill with something other than oxygen - something equally important, something she hasn’t felt in such a long time, it takes her a few minutes to recognize it.

Serenity. 

Yang shifts underneath her. Her fingers graze the strip of bare skin peeking between Blake’s shorts and her shirt - the touch is so light it’s almost imperceptible, but Blake shivers nonetheless. 

“Hey,” Yang murmurs into her hair. “You’re awake.” Her voice is still a bit sleep-rough. Blake’s chest fills with tenderness at the sound, at the inherent intimacy of waking up with someone else.

She extricates herself from under Yang’s arm to look at her. “Good morning.”

Yang smiles - light streams from the window onto her face, like a halo. _Angelic_ , Blake catches herself thinking, and rolls her eyes internally. When did she become such a sap?

“I’ll go get us coffee and tea, and then we should talk, okay?” she says, stretching her arms above her head.

Yang’s eyes trail down her figure, appreciative, lingering on her collar bones, her chest, her stomach. Blake swallows, remembering the previous evening, thinking of picking up where they left off. But Yang’s gaze softens. “Go,” she says, with a little nod towards the door.

Blake walks into the kitchen with a giddy smile on her face.

“Morning, Blake,” Tai greets her, sitting at the counter and reading the paper. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fantastic!” she replies, so enthusiastic that Tai reacts with a surprised laugh.

“Glad to hear that. Well, help yourself, I made some coffee, and there’s water boiling in the kettle.”

She fills a mug with coffee for Yang, adds a sugar cube and a drop of milk, and she’s just done brewing her tea when Tai snaps his fingers.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You got some mail!”

He hands her something and Blake thanks him distractedly, throwing the tea bag in the trash before she glances at it.

It’s a generic post card, from Vale. There’s no signature, just one sentence - five words, but it’s all it takes for her to know. 

_“I found you, my darling.”_

And everything turns to ashes in her mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to thank all of you who've taken the time to leave kudos and write comments, it means a lot to me!

There is no warning before heartbreak.

Yang is still lounging in bed, lazily checking her phone, smiling, when Blake comes back with two mugs and a clenched jaw.

She sets Yang’s coffee on her bedside table, and goes to sit on her own bed, without saying a word. Yang blinks, surprised, and puts her phone down. She expected Blake to sit back down on the bed beside her, close enough to touch, close enough to hold hands, close enough to kiss. Kissing Blake again has been the only thing on Yang’s mind since she opened her eyes this morning, and surely Blake feels the same way.

But Blake’s face is unreadable. She seems radically different from the Blake who woke up in Yang’s arms barely half an hour ago, and Yang sits up straighter, unease falling down on her shoulders like fog on the ocean - ominous and distressful.

“Thanks,” Yang says, grabbing her cup of coffee. Blake nods, but she doesn’t look up from her own drink. Yang stares at her, biting the inside of her cheek. Blake’s shoulders are too stiff, the line of her mouth too thin, her posture tense and guarded - something is wrong, and Blake doesn’t want to talk about it.

“You okay?” Yang asks anyway, tentatively.

Blake takes a sip of her tea, still avoiding Yang’s eyes. Her hand shakes when she brings the cup to her lips, but her voice is steady. ”Yeah. I just… I’ve been thinking. Yang, last night was a mistake.”

Yang’s heart grows heavy, like flesh slowly turning to stone in her chest. “What do you mean?”

Blake’s fingers trace the rugged scar on her leg. “We’d been drinking. It’s the summer break, and we spend all our time together - it was bound to happen. But you’re one of my best friends, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship over some stupid summer fling. I think it’s best if we forget it ever happened, and maybe just take a little break from each other.”

“ _You_ kissed me,” Yang protests, lamely. “You dared me to go skinny dipping, and then you kissed me.”

Blake still isn’t looking at her, eyes downcast, partially hidden behind her bangs, and Yang leans forward, desperately trying to catch her gaze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t…” Blake pauses.

“… thinking straight?” Yang finishes for her, a half-hearted attempt at humor. Blake doesn’t smile. Yang’s petrified heart sinks down to her stomach.

“I’m serious. Just trust me, it’s better if we let it go.” Blake's fingers rub along her scar again, and Yang is hit with a wave of frustration. Because Blake’s _lying_ \- Blake’s hiding something, like she always does, and it hurts that after everything, she still won’t let Yang in.

“I _want_ to trust you, but I feel like you’re not telling me the truth, and honestly I’m a little tired of all the secrets. You woke up literally on top of me, and now you don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’m getting whiplash. What’s going on?”

Blake’s bottom lip wobbles, like she’s about to cry. Yang immediately softens. “Blake, _please_ talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t care about kissing you - I just want you to be okay.”

Blake takes a shuddering breath, as if gathering the strength to talk, and Yang’s lungs fill with hope. And then Blake looks up, and her face could very well be marble - beautiful, but so very cold. Her eyes find Yang’s for the first time since she came back from the kitchen, and Yang recoils, her heart shattering, ground into dust. 

There’s no emotion in Blake’s eyes - none of the tenderness that Yang’s grown used to see directed at her these past few weeks, no affection, no laughter, no desire. Her gaze is blank, like the door opening into Blake’s soul just got shut in Yang’s face, and she barely recognizes the girl in front of her. Her stomach tightens uneasily.

Blake stands up, picks up some clothes from the floor. “I’m gonna go shower, give you some space. It’s better that way, I promise.”

She leaves without looking back, and it feels like a kick to the gut - Yang falls back onto her bed, blond hair fanning over her pillow. The sun shines through her window, joyful and bright, and she wishes it wouldn’t. She wishes for a storm - something dark and loud and filled with the same violent desperation bubbling in her throat. 

“What the fuck,” she says, softly, to the ceiling. 

 

When Yang finally makes her way downstairs, Blake is curled up on the couch in the living room, reading a book. She doesn’t move when Yang walks past her, and Yang stares straight ahead, afraid that if she looks at Blake she’ll end up crying, or something equally pathetic.

Summer is sitting on the big leather armchair, on the other side of the living room, sipping her coffee. She perks up when she sees Yang crossing the room. “Morning, sleepyhead. You haven’t slept that late since you had that horrible cold two years ago. Everything okay?”

Yang swallows. She knows Blake is in the same room, listening, and a small part of her, one she’s not proud of, wants to put her on the spot. She could tell Summer what happened, whine, maybe even cry, make Blake feel all guilty and awkward but…. But it’s _Blake_ , and for all the maelstrom of emotions she’s feeling right now, Yang would never purposefully hurt her. She may not understand what changed, but something did - and she’ll just have to live with it.

So she tries a smile. “What can I say, sometimes a girl just wanna stay in bed.”

Summer looks at her, eyebrow quirked, not entirely convinced. “Well, now that you’ve deigned to join us, how do you girls feel about a beach day? Your dad and Ruby are getting the car ready, we leave in thirty minutes.”

“Sure,” Yang says, with a shrug. She doesn’t really care, but she might as well get out of the house. She turns around without thinking, reflexively checking with Blake. 

Blake looks - _something_. Yang can’t read her expression. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, eyes darting between the front door and the window like she’s looking for a way out, like the offer of going to the beach warrants an exit strategy.

Maybe it’s the perspective of going anywhere with Yang. Suddenly self-conscious, Yang stuffs her hands in the pockets of her shorts. 

Eventually, Blake clears her throat. “If everyone is going, I’ll go too,” she says, looking at Summer rather than Yang. She sounds about as happy as Yang feels. This is gonna be a great day.

The car ride is kind of terrible, but at least Tai puts on some music, so Yang can try and focus on something other than the feeling of Blake’s bare thigh brushing against hers. It doesn’t really work. Blake’s shoulder still bumps against her own whenever the car takes a sharp right turn, and Yang’s stomach churns every time they touch.

During the entire trip to the beach, Blake stays quiet, looking out of the car window, facing away from Yang. Ruby’s chattering with Tai and Summer, and Yang doesn’t know what to fucking do with herself. Her ribs are sore, her head pounding, as if she got trampled by a beast, as if she got flung against the cliff’s rocks by a furious sea. Is it a break up if you were never really together in the first place? Does it count as heartbreak if you barely even knew you were in love?

Because she is. Yang’s in love - and it really, really hurts.

When they arrive, Blake spreads out her towel on the sand and sits with her knees drawn to her chest, fully dressed, book opened on her lap, clearly not intent on going near the water. She’s wearing her big straw hat and her sunglasses, and Yang can’t even see her face. She looks - _small_ \- like she’s trying to make herself invisible, like she’s hiding. 

_Blake looks like she’s hiding._ Yang’s whole body aches, a slow burning pain that starts at the base of her throat and trickles down to her stomach, down to her knees, leaving embers in its wake - because what could Blake be hiding from, except _her_.

So yeah, it hurts. It hurts like a missed opportunity, the sharp, bitter sting of the word almost. 

First, Raven. Now, Blake. The weight of another failure, another _almost_ taunting her, is too much, and Yang flees, running towards the waves until she can dive head first into the ocean.

The ocean, that traitor, doesn’t help. Swimming reminds her of the last time she was in the water - Blake and her naked under the faint moonlight, the thrill of it, the sheer intimacy of the situation. Blake was avoiding looking at her too, that night, but for entirely different reasons. 

Frustrated, sick to her stomach, Yang swims back to the shore and flops down on her towel, one arm covering her eyes, hiding from the sun and everything else. Maybe blocking the sun will make this day go by faster. She’s done with it all - the beach, the sun, the crushing pain inside her chest. This entire summer really can go to hell.

On her right, Ruby is humming a song, earphones in, as she distractedly skims through _Patch Magazine_. On her left, Summer and Tai are having a quiet conversation, peppered with laughter. Blake hasn’t moved. She hasn’t made a sound either, and somehow she’s the loudest of them all. Yang, eyes closed underneath her arm, can’t help but focus on Blake’s silence, waiting, hoping, for Blake to say something. They stay at the beach until late afternoon, and Blake never does.

That night, Blake goes upstairs immediately after dinner. When Yang’s done helping Ruby do the dishes, she follows her, thinking maybe after such an awkward, terrible, miserable day, Blake will reconsider her position. Maybe she’ll at least be ready to talk. But when she opens the door, Blake is lying down on her own bed, reading her damn book, under the yellow light of her small bedside lamp. 

Yang closes the door. Blake looks up, and smiles.

“Good night, Yang,” she says, softly. Yang’s heart breaks all over again, because she recognizes a rejection when she hears one, no matter how gentle.

Yang falls asleep alone in her bed for the first time in a while, cheek pressed against a wet pillow.

 

She gets in the habit of waking up at dawn and leaving quietly while Blake is still asleep. It’s partly to dodge the potential for awkwardness, partly a little petty, because if Blake can avoid her, so can she.

Every day, she goes on a morning run, sometimes on her own, sometimes with Ruby if she’s awake early enough. It’s a nice routine, and it helps clear her head somewhat. Yang’s heart feels bruised, tender, raw like an open wound, but it will pass, she tells herself firmly. After her run, she hops in the shower, and has breakfast in the kitchen with Tai and Summer. That’s usually when Blake shows up, bleary-eyed, always holding a book in her hand.

They manage some small talk, the two of them. Yang makes silly jokes. Blake comments on the food, the weather, the movie they watched with Ruby the night before. Their interactions are civil, casual, lighthearted. It’s fucking _torture_. 

Yang remembers what it felt like to hold Blake in her arms, the taste of her mouth, the warmth of her bare skin, the flutter of her pulse against Yang’s tongue - and she misses it, so very much, craves the miraculous intimacy of Blake’s body pressed close to her own. But she also misses another kind of closeness - Blake comforting her after she broke down, their conversations late at night, the sincerity of their playful banter, the way Blake used to look at her, from the corner of her eyes, with a deep-seated fondness that made Yang feel lightheaded.

There’s a hole in her chest, a space that Blake used to fill, and being around her when they’re so distant only makes it worse.

So instead she spends time with Ruby and Summer and her dad, working on her bike or gardening. She texts Weiss a lot more, and makes plans to skype later in the week.

One morning, four days after the whole debacle, Ruby asks her if something happened. They’re taking a break from their run on the beach, and Yang is gazing at the ocean while she stretches her calves, mind blissfully blank. The question takes her by surprise.

“What do you mean?” she says, turning to face her sister. Ruby looks at her with serious eyes.

“With Blake. Did something happen?”

Yang has the impulse to deny it, but she’s never lied to Ruby before, and she won’t start now. 

“I don’t know what happened,” she lets out. She sits down on the sand, legs stretched out before her. Ruby sits as well, and takes a sip of her water, waiting for Yang to talk. “We kissed, the other night, after the skinny dipping thing. We kissed, and I thought… Well, I thought we could be something. But the next morning, she changed her mind, said it was a mistake. It’s been a little weird ever since, as you can imagine.”

She bites her lip. “Guess she just doesn’t care about me the way I do, ya know.”

Ruby smacks her arm - not actually hard, but it still stings. “Don’t be an idiot,” she says. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she has a huge crush on you.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“Yang,” Ruby says, sounding like she’s a little frustrated and, more surprisingly, sad. She pauses. “You know what I think? You’re afraid. She’s the first girl you actually have feelings for, real, romantic, _scary_ feelings, and she’s running away from something- and you’re just gonna pretend she’s running away from _you_ , cause that’s way easier to deal with.”

“I’m not gonna chase after her, Ruby,” Yang snaps, without heat. “This isn’t a bad romantic comedy - she asked me to let it go, so I’m letting it go.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m not telling you to be an asshole. I’m telling you to figure out what the hell is going on with her, instead of pining from afar like you’re some sort of martyr. Get your closure, one way or another.”

There’s a pause, as Yang absorbs Ruby’s words - shockingly insightful, for a sixteen-year-old. Then again, Ruby’s always been too smart for her own good.

Yang takes a deep breath, exhales. The sand is soft underneath her hands, the sun warm on her face. Ruby leans against her, bumping their shoulders together, and Yang slings an arm around her sister, dropping a grateful kiss on the top of her head.

After the talk with Ruby, she starts paying closer attention to Blake, and it doesn’t take her long to notice what’s changed. For one, Blake sleeps with her light on. She acts like she forgot to turn it off when Yang catches her in the morning, but it happens every night, too regularly to be anything but planned. 

She barely eats, is the second clue. Blake’s never been a huge eater, but she has an appetite, and a sweet tooth. Instead, every meal, Yang watches her toy with her food and politely decline when she’s offered a second serving. She’s not even sure Blake eats breakfast anymore.

And then there’s a string of little things, details and oddities, that, put together, form an alarming picture. Blake never goes out without her sunglasses and hat anymore, and she dresses in loose clothes instead of the short shorts and crop tops she used to favor. She locks the window of Yang’s bedroom at night, something she’s never done before. She eyes the mailbox like it might explode. She rarely leaves the house, and when she does, she’s never alone. One day, they go to the grocery store with Tai, and Blake is on edge the whole time - hovering near the exit, jumping when a man approaches her in the dairy aisle, taking hurried steps backwards away from him. It’s a far cry from the way Blake acted at Junior’s club, not hesitating to speak her mind when inconvenienced. 

She also cringes every time the house phone rings - and, Yang notices with trepidation, it rings quite frequently, often stopping before they have time to answer. 

“Huh, must be a wrong number,” her dad says, one day, when he picks up the phone but the person’s hung up already. Yang looks at Blake from across the dinner table - she’s pale as a sheet, her hand trembling so hard that she has to put her fork down.

Yang observes her, day after day, and her heart breaks for the third time in a week, because here is what she realizes: Blake is afraid. No, Blake is terrified. 

And that begs the question. Who is she so afraid of? 

 

“Do I need to kick her ass?”

Yang snorts. “Thanks, Weiss, but I’m good.”

Weiss frowns. She’s skyping from a depressing-looking office at the Schnee Company headquarters - the wall behind her is painted a dull white, empty but for one generic photo of Atlas University. There’s a window on the right, and despite the low quality of the video, Yang can make out snow, in stark contrast to her stuffy hot bedroom in Patch, where she sits crosslegged on the floor, dressed in a loose orange shirt and ripped jean shorts, barefoot, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.

“Are you really _good_?” Weiss asks, making quotation marks with her fingers. Her tone is sharp, but there’s genuine worry in her eyes. “Ruby says you’ve been moping over Blake for a week now.”

Yang rolls her eyes. “Gee, _thanks_ Ruby.” She props her elbows on her bent knees, leaning toward the screen of her laptop. “For your information, I’m not moping, I’m concerned. I think there’s something going on with her.”

Weiss nods, accepting her explanation. It’s one thing Yang appreciates about Weiss - despite all her prickliness and sass, she always takes Yang seriously.

“You really care about her.”

Yang exhales, slowly. “I’m in love with her, Weiss.”

“Please, there’s no need to go all sappy on me.”

“It’s true, I am,” Yang laughs, amused by the way Weiss’s face scrunches up in distaste. “I’m kinda shocked you didn’t call me out on it sooner.”

“Well, how would I know? We’ve barely talked all summer.” There’s a faint hint of hurt hidden deep in Weiss’s voice - but they’ve been friends for a long time, and Yang has always been able to read her fairly well. Her chest tightens with guilt.

“Fuck, Weiss, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been super available lately,” she starts, but Weiss cuts her off, waving her hands dismissively.

“No, no, it’s fine. You were busy with your tragic summer love story, I understand.”

“It’s not because of Blake,” Yang corrects her. Weiss stops talking, eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s because…” Yang takes a deep breath. “It’s because I found Raven.”

“You _what_?”

Yang tells her the whole story - Qrow letting some information slip up last Spring, blackmailing Junior, Blake helping, meeting Raven at the bar, the cops.

“What a bitch,” Weiss spits out, frowning.

“Yeah,” Yang says, defeatedly, before changing the subject. “Speaking of terrible parents. How is everything with your dad?”

Weiss makes a grimace. “Not great. I’m just trying to finish the internship without a bloodbath at this point. Thankfully, Winter is handling most of the interactions.”

“Weiss… Just drop the internship and come here. You don’t have to put up with this.”

“My resume says otherwise.”

“Come on!” Yang laughs, not unkindly. “You’re Weiss Schnee! Top of your class since, like, kindergarten! Graduated _summa cum laude_ from Signal! Admitted to the very exclusive business school of Atlas University as a freshman! President of countless charity organizations and world famous opera singer!”

“Well, don’t stop now,” Weiss says, drily, when Yang pauses. “This was just getting good.”

“You don’t need this internship, you’ll have people fighting over you as soon as you graduate. Just buy a plane ticket and come spend the rest of your summer far away from your crazy family. You know Dad and Summer are always happy to have you.”

Weiss sighs. She twirls the end of her perfect ponytail between her fingers, a sure sign of hesitation. “You sound like Ruby.”

“Well, that’s because we’re right. Come to Patch. We miss you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Weiss says, noncommittally, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

 

One late afternoon, as Ruby, Blake and Yang are sprawled outside on the lawn playing a slightly boring game of Monopoly, a motorbike makes a sharp turn into the driveway and stops with a loud creak of gravel. The rider steps down, dressed in black pants and a leather jacket, face hidden under a red helmet. Yang notices Blake looking up with wild eyes, hands balled into fists as she stands up, like she’s expecting a fight. 

But before anyone else can say anything, Ruby jumps to her feet, squealing with delight.

“Uncle Qrow!”

Qrow takes off his helmet, resting it on top of the bike, and grins as he catches Ruby in his arms. Yang glances at Blake, who seems to have regain her composure, and makes her way to him. 

“Hey, firecracker,” he says, ruffling her hair when she gives him a side hug.

“Hey, Qrow. What brings you here?”

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by. I’m sure you kids are bored out of your minds without me around!”

“Qrow? Is that you?” Tai steps out of the front door, wearing an apron, spatula in his right hand. “I thought I heard your irritating voice.”

“Hey, now, don’t be rude in front of my nieces. What kind of an example is that?” Qrow smirks as Ruby snickers. Tai rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his smile.

“Oh, cause you’re a real role model, aren’t you?” Summer says, leaning against the doorframe beside Tai. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Only if you’re cooking,” Qrow says with a wink. Tai waves the spatula at him in the air, faking annoyance. “And I’m the rude one.”

They have a nice, lively dinner. Qrow is full of entertaining stories, though Yang privately doubts they’re all true, and it’s always fun to watch Summer tease him relentlessly. Blake stays mostly quiet, perhaps feeling a bit out of place in the middle of a family reunion. She excuses herself and retires to Yang’s room as soon as the dinner is over.

The rest of them settle around the outdoor table on the patio with some chamomile tea. The night brings a cool breeze, the crickets are chirping. The conversation lulls a little, and Yang can’t quite stop herself from missing Blake. Even with how stilted things are between them, she feels lonelier without her. Eventually, Ruby yawns and declares she’s going to bed, giving all of them a kiss on the cheek.

As soon as she’s gone, Qrow clears his throat, and glances at Yang. “I got a call from Raven the other day, asking about you.”

Tai chokes on his tea. “What?” he splutters, putting down his cup a little too brutally. Tea sloshes around, spilling on the wooden outdoor table. Qrow doesn’t look away from Yang, and she finds herself fidgeting under her uncle’s knowing eyes. 

“She told me you managed to find her. Almost an ambush,” Qrow continues. A little smile creeps at the corner of his lips. “She was quite impressed with you actually - and so am I.”

“Qrow,” Tai growls. “This ain’t funny. What are you talking about?” When Qrow stays silent, Tai turns to Yang and cocks his head, clearly expecting an answer.

Yang sighs. Anxiety creeps up her throat, but it’s promptly drowned out by a wave of relief. She’s been waiting for the right time to tell them about Raven, and maybe this is it. She crosses her arms, and wishes she had one of Blake’s cigarettes. “Uncle Qrow got drunk and told me that Raven would be staying in Vale. I just… made good use of the information. That’s why I went to that club - to meet her.”

“Oh, Yang,” Summer says, shaking her head. 

“You and I are gonna have a talk about this later,” Tai mutters at Qrow, before he looks at Yang again. She braces herself for a scolding, a lecture, his disapproval. But instead, his face grows sad, concern etched in the lines around his mouth.

“You should have come to us about this.”

Yang huffs. “How would I even do that? You’ve always made it clear that you didn’t want me to meet her.” Her voice breaks suddenly, as emotion clogs her throat. “I know she left, but she’s my _birth mother_. I don’t understand why you guys won’t let me at least talk to her.”

“Yang, I…” Tai pauses, swallows thickly. “Your mother is a complicated person, and she has her flaws. We’re just trying to protect you…”

“She’s a criminal,” Summer says, flatly. 

Yang’s eyes widen. She’s not an idiot - she’s aware Raven is involved in some shady business. But it’s the first time they’re so straightforward about it.

“Your parents are right,” Qrow adds, his gravelly voice more serious than it’s been this entire evening. “My sister is dangerous, Yang. You’re too young to get wrapped up in her kind of trouble.”

Even though it’s not exactly what she wants to hear, their honesty appeases her. It feels good to be trusted with the truth. “Okay,” Yang says with a sigh, lowering her eyes, uncertain, resigned. 

There’s a hand on her cheek, and she raises her head to find her father looking at her. “I’m sorry,” Tai says. Yang blinks, confused. His calloused palm feels warm against her skin. “I’ve tried to handle this the best I could. It’s not easy for me, talking about Raven, and maybe I’m too biased to have a neutral perspective on her. But you’re an adult now, and you deserve to have a say in this.”

Gratitude and love surge in her chest, and she leans into her father’s touch, wordless.

“If you’re really sure about it, maybe… maybe we could arrange another meeting,” Tai says, tentatively. “Over the phone,” he adds hurriedly when Yang opens her mouth. “And supervised.”

She mulls this over. “Okay,” she says again, this time in a much happier tone.

Tai pats her cheek, gently, once, before leaning back into his chair and grabbing his cup of tea. The conversation moves on to lighter topics, until Qrow grumbles that it’s getting late and he should go. They all stand up to say goodbye, and then Tai walks Qrow back to his bike, and Yang is left alone with Summer.

“You can always come to us with anything,Yang,” Summer says, quietly. “No matter what, we’ll find a solution together. Bottling things up never works, trust me.” Yang nods, but her mind immediately runs toward Blake. 

She’s so distracted, she gasps when Summer pulls her into a tight hug. 

“You know I love you, right?” Summer whispers into Yang’s hair, voice filled with affection and concern. 

And in that moment, surrounded by the love of a woman she’s known her entire life, safe in her arms, feeling content and relieved and more at peace than she’s been in a very long time, the words come easily to Yang.

“I love you too, mom.”

 

The next morning, instead of going out for her usual run, Yang grabs one mug of coffee and one mug of tea from the kitchen, walks back up to her bedroom, and waits for Blake to wake up. 

Eventually, Blake stirs, and opens her eyes. “Yang?” she mutters, voice raspy with sleep, as she sits up slowly. She’s barely awake, hair messy and sticking to her forehead, blinking at Yang with genuine confusion, and God, she’s so cute and Yang is so in love. 

Yang allows her heart a few seconds to simply look at Blake, a small indulgence before she forces herself to focus on the conversation ahead. She scoots down to the edge of her bed closest to Blake’s camp bed.

“I want to talk,” Yang says, as firmly and gently as she can, and hands Blake a cup of still steaming tea.

Blake takes the mug from Yang but frowns, and pushes unruly curls of dark hair away from her face before she answers. “If this is about us, I already said what I had to say. Don’t make this more difficult than it should…”

“You said you want us to be friends,” Yang interrupts her - still gentle, still firm. “Friends talk.”

Blake opens her mouth, like she wants to protest the reasoning, and all Yang does is raise a - slightly critical - eyebrow. Blake closes her mouth.

“Last week, I told you I didn’t care about kissing you,” Yang says, and oh, alright, here’s the hard part. She braces herself, and swallows her pride. “The truth is, I do. I care. When we kissed, it felt inevitable in the best way. It felt like I’d found something I wasn’t even aware I was missing. I don’t ever want to hide the truth from you, Blake, so yeah, I do care about kissing you. There’s a lot of things I want to do with you, and it includes kissing. But here’s another truth: I care about _you_ more. Whatever you decide, I’ll always be your friend.” She pauses, a little self-conscious. “I promise this whole speech isn’t to pressure you into anything you don’t want. I just need you to understand that I’m your friend first.”

Blake’s eyes are wide, impossibly golden in the morning sunlight - and no longer expressionless. There’s still fear - haunting, overwhelming fear - but Yang sees the sadness and longing hidden underneath, and it gives her all the strength she needs to keep going.

“And as your friend, I am worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Blake croaks out, and doesn’t convince either of them. Yang shakes her head.

“No, you’re not,” she counters, quietly. Blake’s jaw tenses, but Yang doesn’t let it deter her, unfolding fingers one by one as she lists her evidence. “You act paranoid every time you go outside the house. You can’t sleep without your light on. You’re barely eating. You flinch whenever the phone rings.”

Blake sets her tea on her bedside table and crosses her arms against her chest, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “You don’t understand,” she says, weakly. She doesn’t deny any of it, though, and Yang breathes out in relief. Progress, at last.

“Then _tell me_.” 

Blake curls into herself like she’s physically trying to disappear, and Yang’s eyes sting with unshed tears. Seeing Blake like this is devastating - she's so obviously in pain, and so reluctant to even admit it. “You helped me when I needed it,” Yang says, softly. She reaches out and places her hand on Blake’s bare knee, hoping her touch will convey everything her words cannot. “Please, let me help you, Blake.”

Blake closes her eyes, and her jaw clenches. She looks like she’s at war with herself, and Yang rubs her thumb lightly on her skin, trying to soothe her even a little bit. 

“Bottling things up never works. You can trust me.”

When Blake doesn’t answer, eyes tightly shut, shoulders drawn inward, Yang gives her a gentle little pat on the knee, and removes her hand. “Come find me when you’re ready to talk. I’ll be in the garden, near the tomatoes we planted together.”

She stands up, grabs her cup of coffee - it’s cold by then, but she couldn’t care less - and steps out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

When Blake meets her in the garden, a good fifteen minutes later, she’s not wearing her hat, nor her sunglasses, and Yang’s heart thrums with hope at the sight.

Blake stands in front of her, spine rigid like steel, and looks up until she’s staring in Yang’s eyes. She inhales, exhales through her mouth, like a diver about to jump into the depths of the ocean.

“His name is Adam,” she says. Her voice doesn’t shake. “And he wants me dead.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been 84 years... A couple things:
> 
> This chapter deals heavily with Adam, and Blake's history with him. Expect some minor violence, but nothing extremely graphic I don't think. There are depictions of the emotional abuse and manipulation of a teenage girl - think canon level of creepiness - so if this is not something you'd like to read, please proceed with caution. If you're unsure, feel free to drop a comment, and I'll happily reply with the exact passage and content you might want to avoid.
> 
> On a lighter note, this is also the chapter that earns this fic its M rating, so... look forward to that, at least :)

Blake sits down. The hammock sways under her weight, and for a moment the loss of balance echoes the unsteadiness of her heart. She grips the edge and makes herself focus on her surroundings - the smooth rope under her fingers, the protective shade of the cherry trees, the way morning sunlight falls through their foliage like shredded ribbons of golden dust. 

Yang sits down as well, facing her, back leaning against the cotton cloth, one leg dangling from the side. The hammock is wide enough that they’re not touching. Blake stares at the inches of space between them, wishing desperately for the comfort of Yang’s touch, knowing there’s only one person responsible for the distance between them - and it’s not Yang. 

“So,” Yang says. She speaks softly, but it’s so quiet in the garden, she might as well have yelled.

Blake swallows. “I… I don’t know how to…” She pauses, swallows again, her mouth dry, her throat closing up. It’s hard, when you’ve kept a secret for so long, to begin unraveling the thread. She closes her eyes, fighting a wave of anxiety and guilt. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have said something sooner. She shouldn’t have come to Patch. She shouldn’t have left Menagerie in the first place…

“Hey, look at me.” Yang’s words interrupt the panicked whirlwind of Blake’s thoughts. 

Blake opens her eyes, and finds Yang’s gaze on her, warm and stable. “Breathe,” Yang adds, no louder than a whisper. Blake keeps her eyes on Yang’s face, and feels her lungs expand automatically, obeying the command. She inhales, exhales, in and out, mirroring the gentle swing of the hammock. 

Yang smiles, approvingly. “Start at the beginning.”

So Blake does. “I told you about my friend Ilia.”

“The one from Atlas University? Cute brunette, Pol Sci major? Yeah, I remember.”

“I met Ilia in Menagerie almost four years ago - we went to the same high school. I was 15, and I didn’t know much about politics, but I knew I wanted to do _something_. She was a senior, handing out flyers on campus about an upcoming march for the environment, and she was more than happy to answer my questions. We talked for hours, that first day.”

Blake can’t help smiling at the memory. “She was so passionate, and knowledgable, and _cool_. I ended up going to the march with her, and then we started hanging out a lot. She gave me books, and took me to protests. I loved all of it.”

She sobers up, glancing at Yang. “You have to understand, it wasn’t just a hobby to either of us. The environmental movement in Menagerie is crucial - our economy, our lifestyle, our actual _survival_ is at stake. Overfishing, ocean pollution, oil spills, global warming - all of this could destroy us.”

She pauses, and Yang nods, listening intently. “All I wanted was to do the right thing. Fight for my people. Change the world.” She rolls her eyes, self-deprecating, but the corner of Yang’s mouth lifts. 

“Of course, you did,” Yang says, her tone fond. Blake suddenly realizes how much she’s missed Yang’s easy, genuine affection - it makes her light-headed, like she stood up too fast.

“One day,” Blake says, determined to stay on track, “Ilia told me about an activist group she’d started frequenting - people involved in more radical stuff than marches and flyers. She asked if I wanted to meet with them, I said yes. And that’s how I joined the White Fang.”

 

_The night has fallen, and she follows Ilia through the narrow, winding streets of Kuo-Kuana’s old town. Blake’s heart beats fast with anticipation, caught between nerves and excitement. Ilia leads them to a dingy bar with dirty windows, and she glances at Blake, her hand on the doorknob, waiting for one last confirmation before they go in. Blake nods, firmly. Ilia opens the door._

_Inside, the room is smokey and dark and uninviting, but the man standing behind the counter takes one look at Ilia and gestures with his chin towards the backdoor. They make their way across the bar, through the door and down a flight of steps, until they find themselves in the cellar. This room, to Blake’s relief, is well-lit and clean, and filled with maybe thirty people, scattered around tables, talking and drinking. A few glance curiously at the two newcomers before resuming their conversations. Blake wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans, and tries to look like she isn’t very obviously younger than everyone else._

_She barely has time to sit at a table, beside Ilia, when the crowd hushes suddenly, as a man appears down the stairs. He’s tall, in his mid-twenties, with bright red hair and a confident smile. One of his eyes is closed, old scars marring the skin around it - but the other one is a piercing bright blue, and Blake finds herself drawn to his gaze._

_“That’s Adam,” Ilia whispers to her. “He’s…” Someone to their right shushes her and Ilia falls silent. Adam walks in front of the tables, and starts talking, and Blake - Blake can’t take her eyes off him. His voice is smooth, like polished metal - his words sharp and passionate. The way he moves, the way he talks - everything about him is magnetic, enticing. The crowd clearly loves him, and at the end of his speech, Blake thinks she does too._

_After the meeting, she steps outside the bar and into the street, in need of fresh air, trying to compose herself while she waits for Ilia. She checks her phone - there’s a missed call from her parents. She’s busy texting them careful lies about her whereabouts when she hears the door of the bar open, then close. She looks up, and her heart misses a beat._

_“I’ve seen you before. You were at the march last week,” Adam says. He lights a cigarette, watching her with an expression that makes Blake feel exposed, somehow. “Ilia said you’re interested in what we do?”_

_“Yeah,” she says. Her voice is too high, childish, and she cringes internally. She squares her shoulders. “I’m Blake. Blake Belladonna,” she states, extending a hand._

_Adam smiles, showing his teeth. He shakes her hand._

_“Belladonna, huh? Your parents were really inspiring, back in the day. Too bad they stopped fighting for the cause, but I suppose not everyone has what it takes.” He pauses and quietly assesses Blake, and her stomach aches with a confusing mix of shame and eagerness to prove herself. “Do you have what it takes, Blake?”_

_“I’m not like them,” she shrugs, faking confidence. She looks at him under her eyelashes. “I won’t disappoint you.”_

_He grins and offers her a cigarette. “Good.” She’s never smoked before, but she accepts it, and lets him light the cigarette for her._

_“I could use someone like you, Blake Belladonna. Someone with principles, someone I can trust,” Adam says, as she takes her first drag. The middle of her chest burns, and she doesn’t know if it’s because of his words or the smoke. She focuses hard on not coughing._

_“I can tell you’re special,” he adds, softly. Blake takes another drag, and basks in his approval._

 

Blake presses her knife against the soft flesh of the tomato, and juice spills on her fingers, dripping on the cutting board. She repeats the gesture and puts the thin slices on a plate. On the other side of the kitchen table, Yang is spreading a generous amount of mustard and mayonnaise on toasted bread. They’re making sandwiches for lunch, alone. Summer, Tai and Ruby are out for the day, and the house is quiet and still.

Blake has spent the past couple hours telling Yang about her time with the White Fang, until her stomach started growling, and Yang suggested they eat something. 

Those were busy years, between schoolwork and protests and sits-in and some decidedly less legal actions. And even though she was considered too young and inexperienced to participate directly in any of these, Blake still helped, delivering messages or serving as lookout. Busy times, yes, and stressful, but how intoxicating, the feeling that you’re actually doing something, that you’re changing the world.

Of course, she hid it all from her parents, but she had Ilia, for a while. And when Ilia left at the end of the first year to go study at Atlas University on a scholarship, she had Adam. 

“What did you even do with him? Wasn’t he like, way older?” Yang asks, piling slices of cheese and deli meat on her sandwich. She hasn’t said much, all that time, only ever interrupting Blake to ask for details or clarification. 

“He was kind of a mentor, I guess. He taught me history and political theory, insisted on giving me some self-defense training. He was always asking me to do stuff for him, small errands, some favor or another.”

Blake snorts, derisively. “He never had to beg for my attention, or ask twice for anything. He knew from the very beginning that I was in love with him, so he exploited it as much as he could, but…” 

Yang’s knife falls on the floor, the clattering of metal on tiles cutting Blake off. She looks up to see Yang staring at her with grave eyes. “Blake… Did he… Were you…”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Blake says, quickly. Her voice sounds too defensive, even to her ears, and Yang’s jaw clenches. “I… we never dated,” Blake insists. “He did kiss me, once, but I _wanted_ it. I was in love with him, I told you.”

“You were a _kid_ ,” Yang counters, very quietly.

The memory, buried deep in Blake’s heart, surfaces, bursting the thick membrane of denial that was hiding it from her consciousness. A White Fang meeting, in that same old bar. Adam, furious because one of his followers had opposed a new plan of his - fuming as he sat back down while people debated. The way he grabbed Blake’s wrist, so tight it left bruises, and tugged until she had no choice but to sit on his lap. His mouth on hers, his arm around her, the way he kissed her like it was revenge, more a display of power than an act of love. 

Blake rests both hands flat on the table, dizzy, as every emotion she felt at the time rushes to her chest: surprise, pride, shame, disgust. Yang clears her throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tell you how to feel about it. I just… I think we both know whatever he did wasn’t okay.”

“He always liked that I wanted him,” Blake says, swallowing bile, words coming out of her mouth painfully, like thorns she has to rip out of her flesh. And yes, she knows Adam hurt her, but she’s never been brave enough to confront the extent of it before. ”He liked having influence on people, having their undivided attention. One time, he got really mad because I hung out with Sun instead of meeting up with him. He yelled at me that I was loosing focus, getting distracted, that he was disappointed in me. I was so upset, I told Sun we couldn’t hang out after school anymore. I pretended I didn’t have the time.”

Yang puts both halves of her sandwich on a plate, looking at Blake with saddened eyes. “Fucking asshole.”

“He was also constantly criticizing my parents, painting them in the worst light, and I…” Blake takes a shuddering breath, guilt simmering in her stomach, the bitter taste of it on the back of her tongue. “I did too. I got into fights with them, and refused to talk to them. I called them cowards, sellouts…” 

Tears fill her eyes, but she blinks them away, and stares at the cutting board - at the sharp-edged knife in her hands. “It took me a while, almost two years, to realize what he was doing, isolating me from everyone else. It’s also around that time that I started having doubts about the White Fang. What we did just didn’t seem right, or even useful. But Adam would not tolerate anyone questioning his decisions, and I was still craving his praise, so I never really dared to voice my concerns.”

“Yeah, I can see why,” Yang says, somber. Her eyes are dark, the line of her mouth angry, and Blake’s not sure that she deserves any of Yang’s fierce protectiveness. She looks away.

“And then, one night, he asked me to go with him on a mission - to actually _do_ something with him. I had been waiting for an offer like that since I joined the White Fang. I thought it was the happiest moment of my life.”

 

_They meet at the rendezvous point, on the far end of the docks, late at night. Blake is wearing all black like he asked, trepidation tingling down to the tip of her fingers. The place is empty, dark, eerily silent compared to the rest of the city. Adam pulls his hood down, hiding his face. He looks a little on edge, adjusting the shoulder strap of his backpack with jerky fingers._

_“Follow me. Be quiet,” he orders, curtly. She nods, too wired to speak._

_The two of them make their way quietly down the ladder and onto the wooden plank leading to the boats. The ocean is calm, the air filled with brine and salt. Blake has only been told the strict minimum: they’re here to sabotage a fishing boat involved in blast fishing, the questionable method of lighting dynamite to stun the fish, destroying coral reefs in the process. The goal is to teach the crew a lesson._

_Adam guides her towards the right boat, and they climb up onto the deck. “Do a loop, make sure we’re alone, then join me in the engine room,” he tells her. He opens his backpack, showing her the content with a grin. “I’ll set the charges.”_

_The charges? Blake stares, unblinking, at the explosives in Adam’s bag. This is more than sabotage - this will make the boat explode. “What about the crew members?” she asks, disbelief coloring her voice, horror creeping down her spine._

_Adam’s grin turns cruel. “What about them?”_

_He walks out without another word, uncaring, and Blake doesn’t move.The reality of the situation hits her so hard she feels numb. If this mission goes through, people will die - innocent or not, they will die. She grips the railing, breathing hard. She knows this is wrong. She has a choice to make._

_Blake takes her phone out of her pocket, and dials the number._

_A few minutes later, she finds her way down to the engine room. The door is wide open, the key still in the lock. Adam is inside, fiddling with the charges. Blake takes a few steps closer, eyeing the dirty workbench in the middle of the room, instinctively taking note of anything that looks like a weapon. A heavy wrench. A rusty hammer. A dented fishing knife._

_“Adam, we have to go.” Her voice resonates loudly, in the quiet. He ignores her, bent over the explosives, not even bothering to look at her._

_Blake clenches her fists, unclenches them. Her stomach tightens. She’s expecting a fight. “The police are on their way. We have to go, now.”_

_That gets Adam’s attention. He pauses, and stands up, slowly facing her. His good eye narrows._

_“What did you do?”_

_Blake feels nauseous, but she stays still, firmly rooted on her feet. “What I had to. You can’t just kill people, Adam, that’s insane.”_

_“You don’t understand,” he growls, slowly advancing on her. “I’m working for some important people. Powerful people who will take care of us. Of Menagerie. This is bigger than a few dead fishermen who should have known better than to piss off my employers.”_

_Blake frowns, trying to make sense of what he’s saying, but all of a sudden Adam leaps towards her, moving with inhuman speed. She jumps back, a little too slow. Bright, sharp pain flares above her knee, and something warm and wet trickles down her leg._

_The fishing knife is in Adam’s hand, his smile predatory. “Oh, Blake,” he says, as she watches blood ooze from the deep cut on her thigh, voice cloyingly sweet. “You should know, I don’t take too well to betrayal.”_

_Blake throws the wrench at his head - it hits him with a disturbing thud, but she doesn’t wait to check, she turns around and runs towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. She turns the key in the lock, takes a shuddering breath. Her leg hurts, her cheeks are wet with tears. On the other side, Adam is pounding against the door, yelling her name, yelling insults and threats and promises of revenge._

_Blake runs. She makes it out to the docks right as the police cars arrive, and then, she keeps running, breathless, terrified, and covered in blood._

 

The living room is silent but for the unfaltering song of cicadas, the familiar sound filtering through the open window. It’s late at night, everyone else is asleep already, which leaves the two of them curled up on the couch, half lit by the soft orange glow of a small table lamp. Blake shifts, uncomfortable, waiting for Yang to say something, anything, dread rising inside her chest. Instead of talking, Yang extends an arm, hesitantly, towards Blake’s lap.

Her fingers hover above Blake’s bare thigh, above her scar. Blake yearns for her touch, and doesn’t know how to ask for it, and after a few seconds, Yang retracts her hand.

“Oh, Blake. I had no idea,” she whispers, eyes still stuck on the scar.

Blake looks down at her knees, “It all made sense, after that night. The incoherence of some of the White Fang’s actions, the endless funds, Adam’s disregard for any idea that wasn’t his… He never cared about the cause. It was never about doing the right thing for him. He was just using all of us to get money from whoever hired him. The destruction, the violence, that was a bonus. He was only ever in this for a fucking power trip.”

“What you did…” Yang swallows, looking at her with an expression Blake’s never seen before, and her heart drops. This is it. The one thing she was afraid of: loosing Yang because of her past mistakes. She braces herself for the judgment, for the rejection.

But Yang’s eyes are kind and full of admiration. “Blake, that was so fucking _brave_ of you.”

Blake’s eyes grow watery, despite herself, as relief mixed with incredulity fills her chest. “I _wasn’t_ brave, though,” she protests, shakily. “I ran. I left before the police arrived, and Adam went to jail. I was too ashamed to tell my parents what happened - so instead I told them I wanted to leave Menagerie, and I did. I had gotten into a good number of colleges, but I chose Beacon because it was the farthest away. I needed distance from everything, from Adam and the White Fang and his promise of revenge. That’s why I didn’t go back to Menagerie for the summer. I’m still running.”

“And now, he’s here?” Yang asks, though the frown on her face proves she already knows the answer.

“I got a call from Ilia, in early July. He got out on good behavior - I’m guessing whoever he answers to had something to do with it. Ilia is spending the summer in Menagerie, and she heard he was looking for me. I thought that he wouldn’t find me here, that he wouldn’t follow me to Patch. But last week, I…” Tears spill from her eyes, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I received a postcard. From him. Ever since, I know he’s been watching me. Playing with me. He’s just waiting for the right moment and he’ll… “

She grinds her teeth, willing herself to stop crying, and lifts her head to meet Yang’s gaze. “I didn’t know how to deal with him, and _you_ , at the same time. That’s why I asked for some distance. That’s why I… I didn’t know how to even _begin_ to explain any of it, Yang. I’m so…”

“No, Blake, God, don’t…” Yang stutters, exhales, tries again. “Please don’t even think about apologizing to me. You have nothing to apologize for. Let’s just focus on getting you out of this. Your safety is all that matters right now.” She pauses, clearly expecting an answer. All Blake can do is nod, still fighting back tears.

“What do you want to do?” Yang asks, voice gentle.

She’s looking at her, open and patient, and under her eyes, Blake finds it easy to be brave.

“I think… I don’t want to run anymore.”

 

Blake thought she’d feel lighter. Isn’t it the goal of a confession, to be granted relief and peace of mind in exchange for exposing your sins? 

Instead, she’s still as tense as she’s been for the past week, waiting for Adam to make a move. And though she’s glad Yang knows, she can’t help the creeping fear that she’s crushed any romantic interest Yang ever had in her. A small, naive part of her hoped that after she told the truth, things would revert back to the way they were. She indulged, somewhat guiltily, in fantasies of Yang touching her again, kissing her, holding her tight while she whispered sweet, loving, comforting words in her ear. But of course, none of that happens. Nothing changes, between them ; they still sleep in separate beds, and don’t talk about their relationship.

And it’s not fair, Blake’s well aware of that. She’s the one who ended it, and Yang has been nothing but respectful. But it hurts nonetheless.

 _I’m still in love with you_ , she thinks, desperate to confess to that as well, and anxious that she’s lost the right to do so.

For her part, Yang seems to focus entirely on finding a solution to Blake’s problem. So they lay their towels on the sand away from everyone else, and Blake tries not to stare at the tanned skin bared by Yang’s swimsuit, at the splatter of freckles on her cheekbones, at the adorable way she frowns when she’s deep in thoughts. 

Together, they come up with a plan. They decide against telling Yang’s parents right away. 

“They’ll probably call the police, which is understandable,“ Blake explains, “ but if Adam finds out that the police is looking for him, and I guarantee you he would, he’ll run, hide for a while, and come back when I least expect it. This needs to end now.”

“So we gotta take him by surprise,” Yang says, pensive. She glances at Blake with unusual shyness. “Blake, I need to ask… If the police is involved in any way, would that get you in trouble with the law?”

Blake shakes her head. “No. It’s true that I’m technically complicit in a lot of the White Fang’s illegal actions, but I was still a minor at the time, and it’s unlikely I’d get charged with any crime. And neither Adam nor his employers want me in court - I know way too much about everything he’s done.” She sighs, tracing with one finger the floral pattern on her towel. “Even if that wasn’t the case, it’s a risk I’d be willing to take. Anything is better than this.”

“Okay,” Yang says. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips when she looks up at Blake, and Blake’s ribcage tightens around her heart. “In that case, I think I have an idea.”

The next time the house phone rings, Blake is ready. She picks up the phone. 

“Adam,” she says, calmly. Her voice doesn’t shake, and for a brief moment she feels a bright, powerful flash of pride.

Silence, at first, then laughter - ugly, triumphant, mocking laughter that erodes Blake’s composure like acid on metal. “Hello, Blake. It’s been too long.”

“Leave me _alone_ ,” Blake declares, putting all her anger into her words, crafting them like weapons. 

Adam hisses. “Do you realize you’ve ruined my life?”

“What do you want from me? An apology?” Blake retorts, sharp. “Because you’re not getting one.”

“I want to see you, Blake,” he says. His voice turns syrupy-sweet, sticking to her skin like poison. “I just want to talk. Don’t you owe me that, at least?”

Blake smiles to herself - she’s got him - and stays silent a little longer than necessary. “Come on, darling,” Adam insists, with the kind of cajoling, wolfish tone that would have made her cave immediately, not so long ago. Now, it just makes her furious. “I know you’ve missed me.”

“Alright,” she answers, sounding purposefully small and hesitant. “I guess we can meet. Maybe at the top of the southern cliff, in Patch?”

“Tonight,” Adam says briskly, switching his tone from coaxing to cold and demanding. Blake’s stomach twists ; it’s a tactic he’s used countless times on her, to keep her on her toes. “Be there at 8PM, and come alone. Don’t bring that new friend of yours, the blond girl.”

He hangs up, abruptly, but Blake doesn’t move, hand frozen on the phone, spine locked in place at the mere allusion to Yang. The fear she’s managed to contain since she started talking to Yang comes back all at once, a torrential downpour that has her suffocating, struggling to breathe. Blake puts down the phone, very slowly. There’s a mirror on the opposite side of the hallway, facing the telephone stand, and she stares at her reflection, watches the way her jaw twitches, the tense line of her shoulders, the wildness in her eyes. _Whatever happens_ , she thinks, resolutely meeting her own gaze, swallowing down her terror, _I won’t let him hurt her_.

Yang finds her still standing in the hallway, a few minutes later, and Blake fills her in on her conversation with Adam.

“You’re sure he won’t figure out it’s a trap?” Yang asks, hands rubbing the back of her neck, like she always does when she’s feeling unsure.

Blake shakes her head. “He likes feeling in control. I just had to make him think it was his idea.” She bites the inside of her cheeks, glancing at Yang. “I still think I should go alone.”

Yang crosses her arms and leans against the wall, the picture of determination. “No way. He’s dangerous - you said it yourself. We’re doing this together.”

 

Blake sits on the bench at the top of the cliff, and wishes she’d brought a sweater. The sun has long drowned below the horizon line, and the wind is surprisingly chilly up here. She remembers watching the ocean with Yang from that very bench a few weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed. She recalls a few other memorable nights of her summer, while she waits. Her first evening in Patch, meeting Yang’s family. Lying on the grass with Yang, smoking cigarettes and talking of secrets. Their excursion to Vale. Skinny dipping. And on the same night, their first kiss. 

Blake thought she’d be a nervous mess, waiting for Adam to come, but Yang is hiding nearby, close enough to hear her if she needs help, and Blake feels calm, her hands steady on her lap. She’s ready for this to end. 

“I told you not to bring her.”

She whirls around and the world stops. 

Adam is standing a dozen feet behind her, holding Yang in front of him, twisting her right arm behind her back in an obviously painful position. He’s pressing a knife to her throat. 

Fear congeals in Blake’s stomach, dripping ice into her veins. She can’t look away from the edge of the knife touching Yang’s skin. She can’t move at all. “I knew you would be too afraid to come alone,” Adam spits out. “Coward.”

Yang bucks against him, and he must tighten his hold on her because she lets out a groan of pain. Blake takes a step forward, talking, _pleading_ , before she can even think it through. “Adam, please, don’t hurt her. Please! You can do whatever you want to me, just let her go.” 

Yang’s eyes widen, her mouth opening like she wants to argue. Adam snickers. “I spent so long waiting for you to be alone, only to have you deliver yourself to me. Oh, darling, you never were the brightest girl.”

He kicks Yang in the back of her legs, making her drop to her knees, and then slams one foot between her shoulder blades, sending her sprawled to the ground, gasping for breath. 

Blake launches herself at him. Her knuckles hit his left cheekbone. The shock reverberates through her arm, and he staggers back, surprised. Blake breathes through her nose, like _he_ taught her during their self-defense sessions, and rams her heel into his right knee. He grunts, but this time he holds his ground, and easily deflects her next hit.

Sweat runs down Blake’s spine, drenching her shirt. She takes a step backward, and shivers, from the cold, from the fear. She knows she won’t win an outright fight against Adam - he’s the one who trained her after all, and he’s physically much stronger than her. She glances to the side. Yang is still on the ground, unmoving. Oh, God, what if she’s really hurt? What if…

Distracted, she doesn’t see him coming, and suddenly his hand is around her throat, chocking her. “No,” she lets out, weakly, clutching at his forearm with both hands, digging her nails into his skin. He doesn’t budge. She can’t breathe. 

Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, as he starts pushing her toward the edge of the cliff. _No_ , she wants to say, again, but her voice is gone, crushed under Adam’s hand. Black spots swirl in her vision. The rumble of waves crashing against the cliff echoes far, far below her.

And, right as she’s about to give up, she hears the sound of a struggle.

“Get away from her!” Yang yells. Adam’s grip on Blake’s throat relaxes, and Blake reacts immediately, punching him in the nose. He lets out a shout of pain, stumbling back as Yang rushes to her, concern written all over her face. Blake, panting, grabs Yang’s hand in her own, holding onto her like a lifeline, and together they face Adam. He still has a knife, and he’s grinning like a madman.

But the tide has turned. Blake hears hurried footsteps coming their way, and torchlights shine bright on Adam. She lets out a breath of relief. Patch’s routine police patrol is right on time, just like Yang said they would.

“Police! Drop the weapon!”

Adam looks around, then turns toward Blake again. “What did you do?” he screams, furor contorting his face into an ugly mask.

She stares him down, squeezing Yang’s hand. “It’s over, Adam.”

 

Afterward, once they’ve taken Adam away, Blake slumps to her knees, right on the edge of the cliff where she’s still standing, and shakes and shakes as tears stream down her face. The adrenaline has worn off - the valve keeping her emotions at bay releases abruptly and it all comes pouring out of her, like a river overflowing after the snow melts. Yang kneels in front of her, and gathers Blake in her arms.

They’re surrounded by police officers with torchlights talking loudly to each other, but as soon as Yang hugs her, Blake feels like she just slipped underwater. All the noise and lights dim, becoming distant and distorted, and only Yang remains, Yang and the way she cups the back of Blake’s head so tenderly.

“We’re okay, you’re okay,” Yang says, over and over, whispering the words into her hair as Blake sobs in her arms.

It’s a long, long night. 

The police officers drive them back to the small police station of the island, where they get checked out for injuries - Yang’s back is a little bruised, same with Blake’s neck, but nothing serious. Twenty minutes later, Tai and Summer barge in, worried sick, with Ruby in tow. They engulf the two of them in a group hug so fierce it makes new tears spill from Blake’s eyes, but everyone else is also crying at this point so she doesn’t feel embarrassed. She half-expects a lecture, but Tai and Summer barely say anything at all, too obviously relieved that they’re safe, listening as Yang explains it all. 

Then the police gets Blake’s parents on the phone - and that prompts even more crying. By the time she’s finally led to a private office to give her statement, Blake’s head is foggy, her eyes sore, and she can barely think. She listens to the officer, but can’t really process anything. The words spin, almost meaningless, in her mind - witness, minor, statute of limitations, no charges, going away for good. The only thing she knows is that she’s free, at last.

In the early hours of the morning, when they finally make it back to Yang’s bedroom, Blake feels like a whole new person, like she’s shed an old skin, shaken grief and fear and guilt off her shoulders, the past no longer weighting her down. Every part of her is raw - but it’s _hers_. 

Yang flops down on her bed after they change into their pajamas, yawning. Blake lingers in between the two beds, not sure where she stands. 

Their eyes meet. Yang scoots over to one side, welcoming. Her blond curls fall on the white pillow like a golden crown, and her smile is still bright as ever despite what they just went through, and Blake is drawn to her light like a sunflower to the sun. Yet she can’t shake the worry, persistent, that she doesn’t quite deserve what Yang is offering.

“Yang, I’m…” Blake forces the words out of her mouth. “I’m sorry he hurt you because of me. I’m sorry I kept so many secrets from you. I’m sorry I shut you out because I was too scared to…” 

“Blake,” Yang interrupts her, with a shake of her head. “I told you, you don’t need to apologize.” She pats the empty side of her bed. “Come here.” A pause - Blake doesn’t move, uncertain. “If you want to,” Yang adds, softly, and her careful tone is what dispels the last of Blake’s hesitation. She lies down besides Yang, and rests her head on the pillow. The bed smells like her, and Blake feels dizzy with joy and exhaustion.

“You okay?” Yang asks, in a low murmur, turning to face her. 

Blake rolls on her side as well, and presses her palm against Yang’s, interlacing their fingers. “I am now.” 

They fall asleep holding hands.

 

It’s past midday when they wake up. Blake’s arm is curled around Yang’s waist, her forehead resting against Yang’s back. The closeness feels right - like coming home. Blake presses a shy kiss onto the nape of Yang’s neck, and Yang chuckles, turning around to face her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Different,” Blake says, truthfully, smiling when Yang can’t help yawning. “Good. You?”

“Never been better! There’s nothing like waking up with a pretty girl in my bed,” Yang replies with a cheeky grin. Blake’s heart lurches, and her eyes flick towards Yang’s smiling mouth, and the tongue peeking between her teeth.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. Her voice comes out hoarse, _wanting_.

Yang licks her lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at Blake. “Please.”

So Blake kisses her. It’s not the first time, so she’s not sure why the touch of Yang’s lips against her own knocks the breath out of her lungs, why the wet slide of Yang’s tongue on her bottom lip makes her tremble like she’s never been kissed before.

But everything feels real and heavy with intention, like maybe this time they aren’t simply crashing into each other, but deliberately _choosing_ each other. Blake tugs Yang’s lip between her teeth, releases it with a wet pop, and moves to straddle Yang’s hips. 

Yang smiles, a little dazedly, and rests her hands on Blake’s thighs, just below the rim of her purple nightdress. Yang’s palms are warm on Blake’s bare skin, and she swallows, pushing an errand curl of blond hair away from Yang’s face, before her fingers trail down the pale slope of her neck, her sharp collarbones, her golden, round shoulders. She leans down to kiss Yang again, and follows with her tongue the line of her jaw, one hand splayed almost possessively on Yang’s stomach, feeling with delight the muscles tensing underneath her fingers. “Is this ok?” Blake murmurs as she sneaks her hand under the thin tank top Yang wears at night.

“Fuck yeah,” Yang lets out, a little shakily. Blake obliges, eagerly touching Yang’s abs, fingers crawling up slowly, counting her ribs, until they brush against the side of Yang’s breasts, and Yang’s hands tighten on her thighs. 

Yang breathes out, and pushes Blake’s nightdress a little higher on her legs, her hands going around to the back of Blake’s thighs, and then up until Yang is shamelessly cupping her ass. She grins and pushes downward, grinding Blake on her lap. Blake has to bite her lip to keep herself from whimpering, and she doesn’t miss the blush on Yang’s cheeks, dusting her skin pink. She kisses Yang again, softly, amused, and whispers into her mouth: “I want to see you naked.”

“Demanding,” Yang comments, teasing and breathless all at once. She drops a kiss on Blake’s chin. “I like it.”

Blake hops off her so Yang can dispose of her pajamas. When she lies back down, naked, Yang’s blush deepens, and for the first time ever, Blake reads self-consciousness in her eyes. So Blake covers Yang’s naked body with her own, relishing in the warmth and smoothness of Yang’s bare skin. Her legs press against Yang’s legs, hips slotted together, and Blake leaves a trail of wet kisses on Yang’s chest, her breasts, her neck. She wants to kiss every inch of her, ever freckle, every pore. She’s drunk on the feeling of Yang’s skin under her lips, the smell of her, the tiny noises she makes when Blake’s teeth graze her. Slowly, carefully, Blake’s mouth descends towards Yang’s hips, until she’s ghosting kisses between Yang’s legs, and Yang _arches_ off the bed, gasping.

“Blake,” she chokes out, staring at her in awe, wide-eyed and beautiful. 

Blake smiles from between her thighs. “Let me take care of you.” 

Yang’s eyes soften, filled with an emotion that has Blake’s heart beating hard and fast inside her chest. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know that, right?” 

“I want to,” Blake says, seriously, rising to her knees to look at her.

She’s still wearing her nightdress, and the sight of Yang naked and waiting for her, letting her take _control_ without hesitation, makes gratitude coalesce with the burning desire in Blake’s stomach. So Blake presses the flat of her tongue against Yang, and licks until Yang’s entire body tenses and shakes, her pleasure lost in a silent cry.

Afterwards, Blake pulls off her nightdress and lies down beside Yang, stroking her hair as she waits for Yang’s breath to even out. Eventually, Yang sits up, and moves until she’s kneeling between Blake’s legs. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, eyes roaming Blake’s naked body.

Her hands curl around Blake’s thighs, and she stares at Blake in the eye as she spreads her legs open, holding her there, laid bare before her, nothing secret anymore. Blake’s whole body _burns_ , her cheeks reddening under Yang’s hungry eyes, wetness growing between her legs - she feels exposed, and vulnerable, and completely _safe_. There’s nowhere to hide - nothing to hide. Yang runs her hands over her skin, cupping Blake’s breasts, teasing her nipples with the pad of her thumbs until Blake has to muffle her moans against the back of her hand. 

Yang’s fingers rest on the dip of her throat. “Can I?” she asks, careful. Blake nods, and Yang’s fingertips brush the faint red marks on her neck, her touch light and loving. She slides down the length of Blake’s body, gentle, and presses tender lips against Blake’s scar, and Blake has to close her eyes, love flooding her chest, threatening to make her cry.

But Yang’s attention is relentless, and she shudders as nails scratch the tender skin of her inner thighs, grunting when Yang replaces them with her teeth, biting and sucking a constellation of bruises. “I’ve been wanting to mark you since you first kissed me,” Yang confides, licking the sting away.

Blake growls, tries to grind against Yang’s mouth, growing desperate with the need for pressure, to no avail. Yang laughs, watching her squirm under her, delighted, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Demanding _and_ impatient. What am I gonna do with you, Belladonna?” 

“Well, fuck me, hopefully,” Blake says, just a tad petulant, and as she’s about to insist, Yang thrusts two fingers inside her without warning. Blake’s voice catches in her throat, and she moans, loud and unabashed.

Annoyingly, Yang doesn’t move, so Blake starts rolling her hips, fucking herself on Yang’s fingers, and oh, it’s overwhelming, the feeling of Yang above her, against her, inside her. She gets into a rhythm, pleasure building up steadily in her lower stomach, until suddenly Yang pulls out. 

Blake twitches and shifts, frustrated, whiny, while Yang inspects her fingers. 

“You’re so wet for me, baby.”

 _Fuck_. Blake’s mouth opens, not expecting Yang’s words, nor the way she says them, smug and hot and _wicked_ , and desire throbs between her legs, breathtaking in its intensity, pulsating in her stomach and in her thighs, drowning everything else. Yang hesitates for a few seconds before she pushes her fingers inside Blake’s mouth, slowly. Blake closes her mouth around Yang’s fingers, and licks them clean, tasting herself, eyes locked onto Yang’s. Her cheeks burn, but Yang is blushing too, the tip of her ears bright pink, something like worship in her eyes. She slides her fingers out, and wipes Blake’s mouth with her thumb. 

“I’ve never done that with anyone else,” she says, low and earnest, staring at Blake’s swollen lips. Yang’s had sex before, they both have - but Blake knows what she means, how different this feels, sharing this kind of intimacy and trust.

They look at each other, caught in the moment. Yang is still pressing her thumb against Blake’s lower lip, and the weight of it grounds Blake, like an anchor. There’s reverence in Yang’s touch, devotion in her eyes - Blake’s heart feels so full, it’s almost painful, but the good kind of pain, the one that makes you feel alive. The words she wants to say push against her teeth - _I love you_ \- but Blake swallows them down, for now. Instead, she kisses Yang’s thumb, gently, and tenderness blooms between her ribs when Yang’s lips curve into the softest smile.

Then she bites Yang’s finger, playfully, challenging. Yang shakes her head, still smiling, and puts her hand back where Blake wants it.

Blake comes with Yang’s name on her lips, and it tastes like freedom.


	7. Epilogue

One week later, Yang bites into her vanilla ice-cream and grins, waiting. The reaction is immediate.

“Ugh, I _hate_ when you do that. Can’t you eat ice-cream like a normal person?” Weiss complains, shifting away from Yang. She’s wearing a spotless white swimsuit, and using an old issue of _Patch Magazine_ as a makeshift fan. 

Yang’s grin widens. “Are you saying you want to see me use my tongue?”

Weiss glares. “I’ve only been here for two days, and you’re already _singlehandedly_ making me regret this visit.” Yang chuckles in response, good-natured. There’s nothing she loves more than riling up Weiss. Mostly because it’s so easy, but also because Weiss always gives as good as she gets, and Yang enjoys the familiar banter. She’d missed having her around, so she’s thrilled that Weiss decided to come spend the last week of August with them, prestigious internship be damned.

The midday sun beats down on the beach, unforgiving. The air is hot and humid - clouds amass, low and heavy, where the blue of the ocean melts into sky. Yang sits besides Weiss on her towel, somewhat sheltered from the burning sunlight by the beach umbrella. A dozen or so feet in front of them, Ruby and Blake are engrossed in a highly competitive game involving Summer’s old surfboard and, as far as Yang can tell, ingesting as much sea water as humanly possible. 

She takes another bite of ice-cream, ignoring Weiss’s groan of disgust, and watches with interest as Ruby manages to stand on top of the board for approximately five seconds before falling backward. Blake catches the surfboard and hauls herself on top of it, waiting for the next wave.

“Show her who’s boss, Blake!” Weiss yells from behind her fancy silver-rimmed sunglasses. 

Yang raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow,” she says, low and only a little bit teasing. “You’re cheering for Blake against _Ruby_?”

Weiss shrugs. “You like her,” Yang comments, genuinely excited. “You’ve never liked any of the girls I was into before.”

“First of all, that’s simply not true, and second of all, you say that as if there’s been thousands of them. You’ve liked a grand total of three girls, and honestly, counting Pyrrha is generous - we’ve _all_ had a crush on her at some point.”

“Still,” Yang says with an obnoxious smirk, pressing a palm against her chest in a dramatic show of relief. “She approves!”

Weiss snorts - a very undignified, un-Weiss-like sound. “Well, now I feel like I’m the father in a historical romance and I finally gave you permission to propose.”

“Does that make Blake your daughter in this scenario?” Yang says, before leaning toward Weiss conspiratorially. “Unfortunately, she already calls _me_ daddy…”

She can’t even finish her joke before Weiss whacks _Patch Magazine_ right in her face. “I hate you and I hate this.”

Yang bursts out laughing, so hard she almost drops her ice-cream. So fucking _easy_. She leans back on her elbows. “Anyway, I’m glad you like her,” she tells Weiss, still chuckling, but no longer mocking.

“I do,” Weiss says, sincere, her eyes soft as she watches Blake and Ruby playing in the waves. “She’s great.” She pauses, and her face grows serious. “I still can’t believe you two went through that nightmare.”

Yang’s stomach tightens, like it always does when she remembers the fight on top of the cliff, the bitter taste of fear in her mouth, the pain flaring in her arm, the knife in Adam’s hand. “Yeah, me neither. I was so scared, Weiss,” she whispers, voice small. “Like I’ve never been scared before.” Melted ice-cream drips on her fingers, cold and sticky, but she doesn’t move.

Weiss turns towards her, blue eyes piercing. “But you’re okay now, right?”

“Yeah,” Yang says. It comes out quiet, subdued almost, and Weiss frowns, mouth twitching in skepticism. Yang, touched by the concern, sits up and puts a hand on Weiss’s shoulder. “I promise, I’m fine. It was horrible, and I’ll never forget that night, but I… we made it through, you know. We were there for each other.”

Warmth blooms between her ribs, in her lungs, growing in her chest like late-summer blossoms ; loving Blake reminds her of the brightest sunflowers, with their petals of fire around a darker, softer center, both fierce and tender. 

Her eyes find Blake again, and her lips curl into a smile, automatically. She’s beautiful, even with her wet hair sticking to her skin and her face comically drawn in concentration as she fights Ruby for control of the surfboard. She’s beautiful, blindingly so.

Yang hears a deep sigh to her right. “If you’re gonna be making lovesick puppy eyes at her for the remaining of our time here, I’m booking a flight back to Atlas immediately,” Weiss grumbles, with absolutely no bite, and even the hint of a smile. 

“No, you’re not,” Yang retorts, fondly. “You love it here.”

Weiss hums, which is as much confirmation as Yang is ever gonna get. She settles back on her elbows, and brings her melting ice-cream to her mouth. 

 

The summer storm takes them all by surprise, bursting with sudden and violent force above the beach, sheets of rain obscuring the horizon. The four of them rush back home, feet sinking in the wet sand, giggling and soaked and shivering, and then bicker over who gets to shower first.

(Weiss wins, but only because she buys Ruby and Blake’s surrender in exchange for doing their chores. Yang goes last, because she really is too damn nice for her own good.) 

An hour or so later, Yang sits cross-legged on the couch, watching as rain batters the windows of the living-room in a steady, implacable assault. Outside, the storm is raging ; violent winds toy with the trees, flowers crumple to the ground under the weight of falling water, and the occasional spark lights up the dark sky.

But inside the house, it’s dry and warm and safe, dimly lit and quiet. Yang can hear muffled noises from the kitchen - people talking, laughter, the clanking of pots and pans, Zwei barking - but the door is closed, and everything sounds far-away, the way the world fades and becomes dreamlike when you put your head underwater.

Blake twitches, and her hair tickles Yang’s bare thigh. She’s sound asleep, her head on Yang’s lap, an open book resting on her chest, hands crossed over the spine. She looks peaceful. Yang traces the bridge of her nose with one finger, very softly, and marvels at all the details she still has to memorize about Blake’s face - the way her lips part, almost imperceptibly, when she sleeps, showing a flash of white teeth, the little crease between her eyebrows, the length of her delicate, dark lashes, like butterfly wings against her skin. 

Her own book lies forgotten on the floor. She’s so focused on Blake, she doesn’t even notice that someone else is in the room, until Summer plops down on the couch armrest next to her.

Yang acknowledges her with a smile, and presses her index to her lips. Summer nods. She combs careful fingers through Yang’s hair, still a little damp from the shower, and begins braiding it, like she’s been doing since Yang was a little girl. Yang closes her eyes and lets herself relax into the hands of her mother. 

They sit in silence for a bit, with the sound of rain and thunder, and the voices of people they love seeping through the kitchen door.

“You two have grown close,” Summer whispers eventually, when she’s done with the first braid. She starts another one, and Yang smiles, glancing down at Blake’s face.

“Yeah, we have. I think… I think we’re dating, actually.”

Summer hums. Her fingers still work through Yang’s hair, quick but gentle, never pulling too hard, never hurting her. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I am so proud of you, Yang. What you’ve done to help her, it was really brave. Foolish, for sure…”And here she pauses, and tugs lightly at the half-finished braid, but Yang knows the gesture is meant to tease rather than blame. “But so, so, brave. You have all of Raven’s stubbornness and loyalty, and none of her selfishness.”

The compliment makes Yang’s heart feel too big for her ribcage. She leans a little into Summer’s side. “I had good role models.”

Summer drops a kiss on top of her head, and resumes her work. “Speaking of Raven. Your dad’s been in contact with her. You tell us when you’re ready, okay?”

“I will,” Yang says, though her voice sounds a bit strangled. It’s still not easy, talking about Raven with her parents - she suspects it might never be. It’s a sore subject for all of them. But she knows something is mending inside of her, a wound that’s been festering for 18 years, and is only now starting to heal. And there is the comforting weight of Blake’s head on her thighs, the silky softness of her hair, the warmth of her - there’s Blake, real and _here_ , Blake who was at her side through this whole ordeal with Raven and who’ll still be at her side for the next. 

Summer finishes the second braid, and gets up. “Weiss and Ruby are helping your dad with cooking, dinner should be ready in about half an hour. Though there’s no telling if it’ll actually be edible. I’ll let you wake up your sleeping beauty, alright?”

One last smile, and Summer is gone. Yang glances back down at her lap, and brushes a strand of hair from Blake’s face. 

“I know you’re awake,” she says, amused.

Blake’s mouth twists into a smile, but her eyes stay firmly shut. “How do you know?”

“When you’re _really_ asleep, you snore like a ninety-year old sailor.”

Blake scrunches up her nose, and opens her eyes to glare. “This is slander. I’ve been told I’m like, an _angel_ , when I sleep.”

Yang touches Blake’s cheekbone with the tip of her fingers. “You are,” she agrees softly, suddenly unable to keep the joke going.

Blake stares at her, so intensely Yang’s breath catches in her throat, and takes Yang’s fingers in her hand, holding them so that Yang’s cupping her cheek. They look at each other for a while, silently - it’s still dark outside, but it feels like there’s enough fire inside Yang’s chest to light up the whole room, the whole island, the whole world. 

Blake licks her lips, and her smile turns a little smug. “So I hear we’re dating?”

Yang blushes instantly. “I mean, I…” she stutters. “It feels like we are, right?”

Blake’s laughter echoes in the quiet room. She grabs the collar of Yang’s shirt and pulls her down into a kiss, and Yang kisses her back, until the thumping of her heart gets so loud it drowns out the thunder of the storm.

 

Yang wakes up with the sun, and, just like she did for months at the start of the summer, her first reaction is to check her texts. There’s only one.

_“On our way. Be there around 1pm.”_

She puts her phone back down on the nightstand, smiling. Blake’s still asleep, snuggling her pillow, bedsheets pooling around her hips. Yang resists the urge to kiss her naked shoulder and silently slips off the bed, careful not to wake her. She pads barefoot out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

When she comes back carrying a heavy tray, Blake is sitting up against the headboard, stretching her arms lazily, yawning. The soft morning sunlight paints her skin a glittering brown, and Yang stills in the doorway, starstruck, blinking at the sight of her - lithe and still lost in the haze of waking up, dark wisps of hair curling at her temples. She follows the elegant line of her neck to her lips and then down again, glancing at the jut of her collarbones, stopping at the enticing bare skin of her stomach peeking below her pajama shirt. 

Blake rubs her eyes, and finally notices her. “Yang? What are you doing?”

Yang makes her way to the bed, puts the tray down carefully on Blake’s lap. “Happy birthday, babe.”

She’s prepared breakfast for her: black tea with a tiny jug of cream, toast with raspberry jam and soft butter, a blueberry muffin, still warm from the oven. Blake takes it all in with a small, surprised smile, until her eyes fall on the card propped against the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and she audibly groans. 

The card is completely blank but for the shaky drawing of something round and vaguely fruit-like, and the words _“Orange you glad it’s your birthday!”_ printed above. Yang’s signature, and a tiny heart, complete the masterpiece.

”It’s the worst birthday card I’ve ever received,” Blake says, biting her lower lip like she’s trying not to laugh.

Yang opens her mouth in fake outrage. “Hey now, I spent like, three minutes on this. Show some appreciation!” Blake snorts, and relocates the tray to her nightstand so she can pull Yang closer and kiss her.

“I had no idea I was dating such a talented artist,” she whispers, teasingly, against Yang’s mouth. 

“Bitch.”

Blake laughs, and kisses Yang’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, your real gift hasn’t arrived.”

“What is it?”

“Can’t tell you, it’s a surprise.” 

Blake pouts, but even her wide, pleading eyes aren’t enough to sway Yang. Instead, she chuckles, and brings one of Blake’s hands to her mouth, presses her lips against Blake’s knuckles. “Sorry, no can do. I promise it’s worth it, though.”

“Fine,” Blake huffs, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips, so Yang knows she’s not actually annoyed. Then her smile grows a little wicked. “Make it up to me?”

Yang grins. She turns the hand she’s still holding around, so she can kiss the inside of Blake’s wrist, featherlight. Blake inhales sharply. “ _That_ I can do, baby.” She straddles Blake’s lap, but doesn’t let go of her hand, trailing kisses up the curve of her arm to the shoulder, to the soft skin of her neck, and then down again, her tongue following the fragile line of Blake’s collarbone. Blake twitches underneath her, hips bucking when Yang sinks her teeth right above her breast, and her free hand finds Yang’s waist, nails digging into the skin. 

“Yang,” Blake exhales. Yang looks up and finds Blake’s eyes darkened with desire, and arousal jolts in her lower stomach, electric and powerful. 

“Yeah?” Yang says. Her mouth is dry. 

Blake twists her hand free, and catches Yang’s wrist, and, without breaking eye contact, guides Yang’s hand just below the waistband of her sleep shorts. “Make me feel good.”

Yang drags her fingers down, until she finds Blake wet and ready, and she smiles. “Your wish is my command.”

They spend the morning in bed, sharing Blake’s breakfast and laughing at stupid videos on Yang’s laptop, until lunchtime. If Blake notices Yang checking her phone constantly, she doesn’t mention it, and she doesn’t protest either when, after lunch, Yang leads her out of the house just as a black car pulls into the driveway.

The doors open, and two people come out - a tall, burly man, sporting an imposing black beard and kind brown eyes, and a much smaller woman, with curly dark hair and golden earrings. Ghira and Kali Belladonna, right on time. 

Blake gasps, taking a step back, eyes widening in shock. “Mom? Dad? What… what are you doing here?” 

They both stop in their tracks, looking at the daughter they haven’t seen in a year, emotion written all over their faces. Kali clasps her hands in front of her chest, Ghira wipes his eyes, and Blake stands, frozen, besides Yang.

Yang rests a hand on Blake’s lower back. “Happy birthday,” she murmurs. Blake turns toward her, slowly. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and, for a terrifying moment, Yang is afraid she’s made a mistake. But then Blake smiles, shaking her head incredulously. “You did this?” she whispers. Yang nods. 

Blake cups Yang’s cheek, devastatingly tender, before turning towards her parents, who are still waiting for her by the car. Yang pushes her, gently, towards them. “Go.”

And Blake runs. Kali opens her arms, and the three of them fall in a tight embrace, talking all at once, laughter mixed with tears. Yang averts her eyes, staring at the freshly-cut grass of the lawn and feeling unexpectedly emotional. This isn’t about her - she knows - and yet… 

And yet she started the summer desperately searching for her estranged mother, and ended it bringing their estranged daughter back to Blake’s parents. The irony isn’t lost on her.

A familiar calloused hand squeezes her shoulder, and she turns to find her father at her side. “You did good, kiddo.” Yang smiles at him, grateful. Without Tai and Summer’s help, she wouldn’t have been able to pull the surprise visit off, but she appreciates that they never took over, that they let her do things her way, from contacting Ghira and Kali to making hotel reservations for them, at Patch’s tiny inn.

It dawns on her, strangely, as her father stands beside her, that she’s as tall as him, and nearly as broad-shouldered. When she was a kid, he looked so big, stocky and strong, but their eyes are at the same level now, and her arms aren’t much smaller than his. There’s a dizzying second where she looks at him and sees herself so clearly - easy smile, ocean-bleached blond hair, tanned and freckled - and she grabs his hand, squeezes it back. 

Then Tai ruins the moment by roughly ruffling her hair. She bats his hand away, scowling. “Jerk,” she mutters under her breath. He laughs, and steps aside as Summer, Weiss and Ruby join them in the front yard. 

The Belladonna separate, and Blake, rosy-cheeked, introduces her parents to everyone. Ghira and Kali both hug Yang and thank her so profusely she turns bashful.

“We were so convinced Blake didn’t want to see us, we never would have come without your message,” Kali murmurs in her ear, too low for anyone else to catch. “Thank you, Yang.”

“It was such a thoughtful idea to invite us for Blake’s birthday,” Ghira adds, louder, with a warm smile.

Yang shrugs, flustered. “Glad it all worked out!”

“That’s what I still don’t understand,” Blake says, with the face of someone who hasn’t quite processed everything yet. “ _How_ did you get here so fast?”

“Well, we knew we couldn’t do the regular trip by boat if we wanted to make it in time for your birthday,” Kali explains, “so we arranged the use of a private jet, from a nearby military ship. That way, it took us half the usual time to get to Vale.”

“Being the Chief of Menagerie has its perks,” Ghira laughs.

“Clearly,” Summer says, looking impressed. “Come on, come inside, have a drink and sit down, and you can tell us all about your trip. Ruby, Weiss, go get the lemonade from the kitchen, will you?”

Everyone starts making their way inside the house, but Yang grabs Blake’s wrist and waits till they’re the only ones left.

“Your dad is the _Chief of Menagerie_?” she whispers, incredulously. “How come you never told me you were basically royalty?”

“I’m not,” Blake says, narrowing her eyes, “and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d have way too much fun with this information.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating a princess,” Yang continues, grinning widely, happily proving her right.

“Yang.”

“I can’t believe I’m _fucking_ a princess…” 

Blake takes one step closer, standing on her tiptoes so she can stare straight into Yang’s eyes. (Which is kind of intimidating but also weirdly adorable?) “Yang,” she repeats, “if you want to keep _fucking me_ , as you put it, I suggest you stop talking right now.”

Yang leans forward, bringing their faces even closer, and grabs Blake’s jaw, gently holding her in place. “You’re cute when you’re bossy,” she murmurs, low. Blake’s cheeks darken. Abruptly, Yang becomes aware of the fact that their first kiss took place only a few feet away from where they’re standing now. She remembers how Blake kissed her first that night ; she remembers the salt on their lips, on their skin, and how it felt to pin Blake against the wall. Her thoughts must show on her face, somehow, because Blake swallows, hard, and Yang feels the muscle of her jaw clenching against her fingers.

But now isn’t the right time for this. So she lets go of Blake, and drops a quick kiss on her nose, and smiles. “Come on, Your Majesty, let’s get inside. Your parents are waiting.”

Blake rolls her eyes, but she takes Yang’s hand in her own, and leads her inside the house.

Most of the afternoon is spent in easy conversation with Blake’s parents, who seem like great people and get along well with all of Yang’s family. Kali and Weiss especially seem to share a similar penchant for sarcasm. Oscar arrives a few hours later, and then Qrow, and once everyone is here, it’s time to start the birthday party preparations.

The roles have been agreed upon in advance, so it all goes smoothly. Tai is setting up the barbecue grill while Qrow and Oscar help Summer finish up in the kitchen. Ruby and Kali put up the fairy lights in the cherry tree ; Weiss takes over the flower decorations. That leaves Yang and Ghira the task of carrying the heavy outdoor tables from the shed to the backyard, and enough chairs for everyone.

And Blake… Well, Blake keeps trying to help, to no avail.

“Sweetie, it’s your birthday, just sit down and relax,” Kali says, eventually. Blake flops down on a garden chair, resigned. Yang wipes sweat from her forehead with the front of her shirt, and doesn’t miss the way Blake’s eyes drift to her bare stomach. She fills a glass of water, and brings it over.

“Here, you look thirsty,” she teases, low and full of intent. Blake sticks her tongue out, but she takes the water. Yang leans in. “Your mom is right, it’s your birthday. Sit and enjoy the show.”

She winks as she goes back to putting the tables together, and she can feel Blake’s gaze on her until they sit down to eat.

The birthday dinner is loud and chaotic and fun, filled with laughter and stories, champagne and fresh cherries, grilled fish and vegetables, and a huge chocolate cake for dessert. Blake sits in the middle, between her dad and Ruby, and Yang sits across from her. Blake’s cheeks are pink with joy, her eyes bright, she laughs and talks and laughs and Yang barely touches her food, unwilling to take her eyes of off Blake’s happiness. 

Then they all sing _Happy Birthday_ , in a joyous cacophony, while Blake blows her candles out. Amid cheers and applause, she looks across the table, finds Yang’s eyes, and mouths a quiet _thank you_. 

The sun has set when they’re done with dinner, and it’s a perfect summer night: the ocean breeze makes the heat pleasant, the sky is clear enough to see the myriad of stars blinking far above them, crickets and nocturnal birds fill the garden with familiar sounds. Tai has brought out some very strong peach liquor, and the older adults are sharing a drink as they talk quietly, sitting around the table. Ruby disappears at one point, and comes back with loaded water guns - she soon drafts Oscar and Weiss in a fierce, merciless fight in the front yard. Blake looks at Yang, gestures with her head toward the shed, waits. Yang nods. They both leave the table discreetly.

Inside the shed, Blake doesn’t say anything, just pushes Yang against the workbench and kisses her, fingers pulling at her hair. Yang rests a hand on the curve of Blake’s neck, and lets herself be devoured. She tastes champagne and chocolate on Blake’s tongue, and swallows Blake’s laughter in her mouth. She reads the words neither of them have said yet in the softness of Blake’s hand on her back, in the press of Blake’s hipbone against hers, in the rapid staccato of Blake’s pulse under her thumb, in…

A sudden spurt of cold water hits them both right in the face. 

They jump away from each other, sputtering. Yang actually _squeals_ , embarrassingly.

Standing in the shed entryway, Ruby does a little curtsy, and waves her giant red water gun at the two of them with a delighted grin. A few steps behind her, Oscar looks mortified, but Weiss just shrugs. “Things were getting _heated_ in here,” she says, absently twirling her own weapon around her finger, “and we thought you guys would appreciate the chance to cool down.” 

Blake and Yang look at each other. “What do you think?” Yang asks, not bothering to talk quietly. “Wanna kick their asses together?”

“I think this declaration of war cannot go unpunished,” Blake answers with all the seriousness she can muster, eyes glinting in the dark shed. Ruby giggles, obviously pleased with the results of her sneak attack. Oscar slowly backs away when Yang makes a show of cracking her knuckles. 

Weiss rolls her eyes. “You guys are outnumbered, and outgunned. There’s no way you can win this.” 

Blake smiles dangerously, showing her teeth, and there’s something in the lilt of her lips that shoots sparks down Yang’s spine. _Oh, you guys don’t stand a chance_ , she thinks, before Blake and her leap forward, perfectly in synch.

The water gun fight ends with Yang’s genius - though controversial - use of the garden hose, Ruby, Weiss and Oscar thoroughly soaked through, and the sweetest victory kiss under the stars.

 

It’s the last dawn of their summer break, and the sky is grey and pink, with streaks of pretty purple.

Yang sits on the cold sand. It’s still dark, almost chilly, in the early morning. Blake nuzzles into her neck, pressed against her side for warmth, her arm snug around Yang’s waist. 

“This cloud looks like a howling wolf,” she mumbles against Yang’s skin, pointing at a white puffy cloud far above. Yang tilts her head, squinting.

“I don’t see it. Looks like a cloud to me.”

She feels more than she hears Blake’s little exasperated puff of air. “This is what I get for dating an engineering major. No imagination whatsoever.”

Yang laughs. “Sorry we can’t all wax poetic about meteorological phenomena.”

Blake bites her neck in retaliation, and Yang smacks the back of her thigh, and then they pause their play-fighting because the sun has appeared, rising above the dark ocean, and it’s too beautiful a sight to miss.

Tomorrow, they’ll be back at Beacon University, for the first day of their sophomore year. Tai will drop them off on campus, and they’ll have a million things to figure out: classes and friends and all the usual administrative mess that comes with a new school year. They won’t be roommates anymore - they’re both getting a single room, and though Yang knows it’s probably for the best now that Blake and her are officially dating, she’s also a little sad that everything is changing.

Not that change isn’t _great_. Blake’s hand tightens around her waist, and Yang smiles. Yeah, change is wonderful. And kind of magical. But where there’s change, there’s nostalgia, too - endings always are bittersweet. The summer is almost gone, and Yang wants to say goodbye properly.

So, on their last morning in Patch, she drags Blake out of bed, and they ride her bike across the island until they reach Yang’s favorite beach, where they wait together for the sun to rise. Just the two of them and the ocean. The air tastes of brine - a bird shrieks in the distance.

“Yang,” Blake says quietly, her eyes on the horizon line.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

Yang breathes in, and out, and the words nestle in her heart, tuck themselves inside her where they belong, both comfortable and excitingly _new_.

She rests her cheek on Blake’s head, and closes her eyes, facing the new day.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to write the final chapter, real life got a little crazy. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading this story, it means a lot to me. And as always, feedback is appreciated! <3


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